LIBRARY   OF 

HENRY  C.  FALL. 

AND  KATHARINE  A.  FALL 


Date  of  Purchase 
Place        ~J-s 
Cos* 


^r 


» 

•^~>  -£--£,,  ^  J.    / 


ifcvBIG 


by  Ernest  Thomjuon  Jeton  ^ 

Author  of 

Wild  Anim&U  1  hive  known 
Tra.il  of  the  >Sa.ndhill  *St^ 
Biography  of  ^j&riwly 
LivlES  of  the  Hunted     J 
Two  Little 'JWa.Q;e.y.     Etc. 


Publiihed  by  Ch^rle^  -yc 


New  YorK-1904 


Copyright,  1902,  1903,  by 
Ladies'  Home  Journal 

Copyright,  1904,  by 
Ernest  Thompson  Seton 


First 

Impression 

October 

3 

1904 


THE  DE  VINNE  PRESS 


THIS  BOOK 
IS  DEDICATED 


To  the  memory  of  the  daysinTallac's 
Pines,  where  by  the  fire  I  heard  this 
epic  tale. 

Kind  memory  calls  the  picture  up 
before  me  now,  clear,  living  clear:  I  see 
them  as  they  sat,  the  one  small  and 
slight,  the  other  tall  and  brawny, 
leader  and  led,  rough  men  of  the  hills. 
They  told  me  this  tale — in  broken 
bits  they  gave  it,  a  sentence  at  a  time. 
They  were  ready  to  talk  but  knew  not 
how.  Few  their  words,  and  those  they 
used  would  be  empty  on  paper,  mean- 


2050969 


ingless  without  the  puckered  lip,  the 
interhiss,  the  brutal  semi-snarl  re- 
strained by  human  mastery,  the  snap 
and  jerk  of  wrist  and  gleam  of  steel- 
gray  eye,  that  really  told  the  tale,  of 
which  the  spoken  word  was  mere  head- 
line. Another,  a  subtler  theme  was 
theirs  that  night;  not  in  the  line  but 
in  the  interline  it  ran;  and  listening  to 
the  hunterrs  ruder  tale,  I  heard  as  one 
may  hear  the  night  bird  singing  in  the 
storm;  amid  the  glitter  of  the  mica  I 
caught  the  glint  of  gold,  for  theirs  was 
a  parable  of  hill-born  power  that  fades 
when  it  finds  the  plains.  They  told 
of  the  giant  redwood's  growth  from  a 
tiny  seed;  of  the  avalanche  that,  born 
a  snowflake,  heaves  and  grows  on  the 
peaks,  to  shrink  and  die  on  the  level 
lands  below.  They  told  of  the  river 
at  our  feet:  of  its  rise,  a  thread-like 
rill,  afar  on  Tallac's  side,  and  its 


growth  —  a  brook,  a  stream,  a  little 
river,  a  river,  a  mighty  flood  that 
rolled  and  ran  from  hills  to  plain  to 
meet  a  final  doom  so  strange  that  only 
the  wise  believe.  Yes,  I  have  seen  it; 
it  is  there  to-day — the  river,  the  won- 
derful river,  that  unabated  flows,  but 
that  never  reaches  the  sea. 

I  give  you  the  story  then  as  it  came 
to  me,  and  yet  I  do  not  give  it,  for 
theirs  is  a  tongue  unknown  to  script: 
I  give  a  dim  translation;  dim,  but  in 
all  ways  respectful,  reverencing  the  in- 
domitable spirit  of  the  mountaineer, 
worshiping  the  mighty  Beast  that  na- 
ture built  a  monument  of  power,  and 
loving  and  worshiping  the  clash,  the 
awful  strife  heroic,  at  the  close,  when 
these  two  met. 


In  this  Book  the  designs  for 
cover,  title-page,  and  gen- 
eral make-up  were  done  by 
Grace  Gallatin  Seton. 


List  of 
Full-Pa^e  Drawings 

^ 

Page 

"The    pony  bounded    in    terror   while    the 

Grizzly  ran  almost  alongside"      ...  21 
"Jack  ate  till  his  paunch  looked  like  a  rub- 
ber balloon"     31 

"'Honey— Jacky— honey'" 37 

"Jack  .  .  .  held  up  his  sticky,  greasy  arms"  53 

The  Thirty-foot   Bear 93 

"'Now,   Brar,   I   don't  want  no  scrap  with 

you'" 143 

"Rumbling  and  snorting,  he  made  for  the 

friendly  hills"        197 

Monarch 215 


List  of 
The  Chapters 


Page 

I.   The  Two  Springs 15 

II.    The  Springs  and  the  Miner's  Dam     .  27 

III.  The  Trout  Pool 41 

IV.  The  Stream  that  Sank  in  the  Sand  .  49 
V.    The  River  Held  in  the  Foothills      .  63 

VI.    The  Broken  Dam 79 

VII.    The  Freshet 87 

VIII.    Roaring  in  the  Canon 99 

IX.   Fire  and  Water Ill 

X.    The  Eddy        121 

XI.    The  Ford 137 

XII.    Swirl  and  Pool  and  Growing  Flood  .  145 

XIII.  The  Deepening  Channel     ....  159 

XIV.  The  Cataract 171 

XV.   The  Foaming  Flood 177 

XVI.    Landlocked     .                , 199 


THE  story  of  Monarch  is  founded  on 
material  gathered  from  many  sources 
as  well  as  from  personal  experience, 
and  the  <Bear  is  of  necessity  a  compos- 
ite. The  great  Grizzly  Monarch,  still 
pacing  his  prison  floor  at  the  Golden 
Gate  '•ParA,  is  the  central  fact  of  the 
tale. 

In  telling  it  I  have  taken  two  lib- 
erties that  I  conceive  to  be  proper  in  a 
story  of  this  sort. 

First,  I  have  selected  for  my  hero  an 
unusual  individual. 


Second,  I  have  ascribed  to  that  one 
animal  the  adventures  of  several  of  his 
kind. 

The  aim  of  the  story  is  to  picture  the 
life  of  a  Grizzly  with  the  added  glamour 
of  a  remarkable  ^Bear  personality.  The 
intention  is  to  convey  the  known  truth. 
<But  the  fact  that  liberties  have  been 
taken  excludes  the  story  from  the  cata- 
logue of  pure  science.  It  must  be  con- 
sidered rather  an  historical  novel  of 
<Bear  life. 

Many  differentftears  were  concerned 
in  the  early  adventures  here  related,  but 
the  last  two  chapters,  the  captivity  and 
the  despair  of  the  ^ig  '•Bear,  are  told  as 
they  were  told  to  me  by  several  wit- 
nesses, including  my  friends  the  two 
mountaineers. 


Jf 


THE  TWO   SPRINGS 


I 


(IGH  above  Sierra's  peaks 
stands  grim  Mount  Tal- 
lac.  Ten  thousand  feet 
above  the  sea  it  rears  its 
head  to  gaze  out  north 
to  that  vast  and  wonderful  turquoise 
that  men  call  Lake  Tahoe,  and  north- 
west, across  a  piney  sea,  to  its  great 
white  sister,  Shasta  of  the  Snows; 
wonderful  colors  and  things  on  every 
side,  mast-like  pine  trees  strung  with 
jewelry,  streams  that  a  Buddhist  would 
have  made  sacred,  hills  that  an  Arab 


qp       -W/'/^     J 

/       V 


would  have  held  holy.  But  Lan  Kell- 
yan's  keen  gray  eyes  were  turned  to 
other  things.  The  childish  delight  in 
life  and  light  for  their  own  sakes  had 
faded,  as  they  must  in  one  whose  train- 
ing had  been  to  make  him  hold  them 
very  cheap.  Why  value  grass?  All  the 
world  is  grass.  Why  value  air,  when  it  is 
everywhere  in  measureless  immensity? 
Why  value  life,  when,  all  alive,  his  liv- 
ing cameJTom  taking  life?  His  senses 
were  alert,  not  for  the  rainbow  hills  and 
the  gem-bright  lakes,  but  for  the  liv- 
ing things  that  he  must  meet  in  daily 
rivalry,  each  staking  on  the  game,  his 
life.  Hunter  was  written  on  his 
leathern  garb,  on  his  tawny  face,  on 
his  lithe  and  sinewy  form,  and  shone 
in  his  clear  gray  eye. 

The  cloven  granite  peak  might 
pass  unmarked,  but  a  faint  dimple  in 
the  sod  did  not.  Calipers  could  not 


have  told  that  it  was  widened  at  one 
end,  but  the  hunter's  eye  did,  and 
following,  he  looked  for  and  found 
another,  then  smaller  signs,  and  he 
knew  that  a  big  Bear  and  two  little 
ones  had  passed  and  were  still  close 
at  hand,  for  the  grass  in  the  marks 
was  yet  unbending.  Lan  rode  his 
hunting  pony  on  the  trail.  It  sniffed 
and  stepped  nervously,  for  it  knew  as 
well  as  the  rider  that  a  Grizzly  family 
was  near.  They  came  to  a  terrace 
leading  to  an  open  upland.  Twenty 
feet  on  this  side  of  it  Lan  slipped  to 
the  ground,  dropped  the  reins,  the  well- 
known  sign  to  the  pony  that  he  must 
stand  at  that  spot,  then  cocked  his  rifle 
and  climbed  the  bank.  At  the  top  he 
went  with  yet  greater  caution,  and  soon 
saw  an  old  Grizzly  with  her  two  cubs. 
She  was  lying  down  some  fifty  yards 
away  and  afforded  a  poor  shot ;  he  fired 


I 


at  what  seemed  to  be  the  shoulder. 
The  aim  was  true,  but  the  Bear  got 
only  a  flesh-wound.  She  sprang  to 
her  feet  and  made  for  the  place  where 
the  puff  of  smoke  arose.  The  Bear  had 
fifty  yards  to  cover,  the  man  had  fif- 
teen, but  she  came  racing  down  the 
bank  before  he  was  fairly  on  the  horse, 
and  for  a  hundred  yards  the  pony 
bounded  in  terror  while  the  old  Grizzly 
ran  almost  alongside,  striking  at  him 
and  missing  by  a  scant  hair's-breadth 
each  time.  But  the  Grizzly  rarely 
keeps  up  its  great  speed  for  many  yards. 
The  horse  got  under  full  headway, 
and  the  shaggy  mother,  falling  behind, 
gave  up  the  chase  and  returned  to  her 
cubs. 

She  was  a  singular  old  Bear.  She 
had  a  large  patch  of  white  on  her 
breast,  white  cheeks  and  shoulders, 
graded  into  the  brown  elsewhere,  and 


Lan  from  this  remembered  her  after- 
ward as  the  "  Pinto."  She  had  almost 
caught  him  that  time,  and  the  hunter 
was  ready  to  believe  that  he  owed  her 
a  grudge. 

A  week  later  his  chance  came.  As 
he  passed  along  the  rim  of  Pocket 
Gulch,  a  small,  deep  valley  with  sides 
of  sheer  rock  in  most  places,  he  saw 
afar  the  old  Pinto  Bear  with  her  two 
little  brown  cubs.  She  was  crossing 
from  one  side  where  the  wall  was  low 
to  another  part  easy  to  climb.  As  she 
stopped  to  drink  at  the  clear  stream 
Lan  fired  with  his  rifle.  At  the  shot 
Pinto  turned  on  her  cubs,  and  slapping 
first  one,  then  the  other,  she  chased 
them  up  a  tree.  Now  a  second  shot 
struck  her  and  she  charged  fiercely  up 
the  sloping  part  of  the  wall,  clearly 
recognizing  the  whole  situation  and  de- 
termined to  destroy  that  hunter.  She 


came  snorting  up  the  steep  acclivity 
wounded  and  raging,  only  to  receive  a 
final  shot  in  the  brain  that  sent  her 
rolling  back  to  lie  dead  at  the  bottom 
of  Pocket  Gulch.  The  hunter,  after 
waiting  to  make  sure,  moved  to  the 
edge  and  fired  another  shot  into  the 
old  one's  body;  then  reloading,  he  went 
/  |  cautiously  down  to  the  tree  where  still 

/  werethecubs.   They  gazed  at  him  with 

wild   seriousness   as   he   approached 
(v^  •*'  y  them,  and  when  he  began  to  climb  they 
-\  a  te  )    scrambled  up  higher.    Here  one  set  up 
^  *5'*  i    a  plaintive  whining  and  the  other  an 
N  ^  an^ry  growling,  their  outcries  increas- 

ing as  he  came  nearer. 

He  took  out  a  stout  cord,  and  noos- 
ing them  in  turn,  dragged  them  to  the 
ground.  One  rushed  at  him  and, though 
little  bigger  than  a  cat,  would  certainly 
have  done  him  serious  injury  had  he 
not  held  it  off  with  a  forked  stick. 


After  tying  them  to  a  strong  but  sway- 
ing branch  he  went  to  his  horse, got  a 
grain-bag,  dropped  them  into  that,  and 
rode  with  them  to  his  shanty.  He  fas- 
tened each  with  a  collar  and  chain  to 
a  post,  up  which  they  climbed,  and  sit- 
ting on  the  top  they  whined  and  growled, 
according  to  their  humor.  For  the  first 
few  days  there  was  danger  of  the  cubs 
strangling  themselves  or  of  starving  to 
death,  but  at  length  they  were  beguiled 
into  drinking  some  milk  most  ungently 
procured  from  a  range  cow  that  was 
lassoed  for  the  purpose.  In  another 
week  they  seemed  somewhat  recon- 
ciled to  their  lot,  and  thenceforth 
plainly  notified  their  captor  whenever 
they  wanted  food  or  water. 

And  thus  the  two  small  rills  ran 
on,  a  little  farther  down  the  moun- 
tain now,  deeper  and  wider,  keeping 
near  each  other;  leaping  bars,  rejoic- 


ing  in  the  sunlight,  held  for  a  while 
by  some  trivial  dam,  but  overleaping 
that  and  running  on  with  pools  and 
deeps  that  harbor  bigger  things. 


THE  SPRINGS  AN<D  THE 
MINER'S  <DAM 


II 


ACK  and  Jill,  the  hunter 
named  the  cubs;  and  Jill, 
the  little  fury,  did  nothing 
to  change  his  early  im- 
pression of  her  bad  tem- 
per. When  at  food-time  the  man  came 
she  would  get  as  far  as  possible  up  the 
post  and  growl,  or  else  sit  in  sulky  fear 
and  silence;  Jack  would  scramble  down 
and  strain  at  his  chain  to  meet  his 
captor,  whining  softly,  and  gobbling  his 
food  at  once  with  the  greatest  of  gusto 
and  the  worst  of  manners.  He  had 


many  odd  ways  of  his  own,  and  he  was 
a  lasting  rebuke  to  those  who  say  an 
animal  has  no  sense  of  humor.  In  a 
month  he  had  grown  so  tame  that  he 
was  allowed  to  run  free.  He  followed 
his  master  like  a  dog,  and  his  tricks 
and  funny  doings  were  a  continual  de- 
light to  Kellyan  and  the  few  friends 
he  had  in  the  mountains. 

On  the  creek-bottom  below  the 
shack  was  a  meadow  where  Lan  cut 
enough  hay  each  year  to  feed  his  two 
ponies  through  the  winter.  This  year 
when  hay-timecame  Jack  was  his  daily 
companion,  either  following  him  about 
in  dangerous  nearness  to  the  snorting 
scythe,  or  curling  up  an  hour  at  a  time 
on  his  coat  to  guard  it  assiduously  from 
such  aggressive  monsters  as  Ground 
Squirrels  and  Chipmunks.  An  in- 
teresting variation  of  the  day  came 
about  whenever  the  mower  found  a 


JACK  ATE   TILL  HIS   PAUNCH   LOOKED   LIKE  A  RUBBER   BALLOON  ' 


bumblebees'  nest.  Jack  loved  honey, 
of  course,  and  knew  quite  well  what  a 
bees'  nest  was,  so  the  call,  "  Honey— 
Jacky — honey!"  never  failed  to  bring 
him  in  waddling  haste  to  the  spot. 
Jerking  his  nose  up  in  token  of  plea- 
sure, he  would  approach  cautiously, 
for  he  knew  that  bees  have  stings. 
Watching  his  chance,  he  would  dexter- 
ously slap  at  them  with  his  paws  till, 
one  by  one,  they  were  knocked  down 
and  crushed ;  then  sniffing  hard  for  the 
latest  information,  he  would  stir  up  the 
nest  gingerly  till  the  very  last  was 
tempted  forth  to  be  killed.  When  the 
dozen  or  more  that  formed  the  swarm 
were  thus  got  rid  of,  Jack  would  care- 
fully dig  out  the  nest  and  eat  first  the 
honey,  next  the  grubs  and  wax,  and 
last  of  all  the  bees  he  had  killed, 
champing  his  jaws  like  a  little  Pig 
at  a  trough,  while  his  long  red,  snaky 


tongue  was  ever  busy  lashing  the  strag- 
glers into  his  greedy  maw. 

Lan's  nearest  neighbor  was  Lou 
Bonamy,  an  ex-cowboy  and  sheep- 
herder,  now  a  prospecting  miner.  He 
lived,  with  his  dog,  in  a  shanty  about 
a  mile  below  Kellyan's  shack.  Bon- 
amy had  seen  Jack  "perform  on  a 
bee-crew."  And  one  day,  as  he  came 
to  Kellyan's,  he  called  out:  "  Lan, 
bring  Jack  here  and  we  fll  have  some 
fun."  He  led  the  way  down  the  stream 
into  the  woods.  Kellyan  followed  him, 
and  Jacky  waddled  at  Kellyan's  heels, 
sniffing  once  in  a  while  to  make  sure 
he  was  not  following  the  wrong  pair 
of  legs. 

u There,  Jacky,  honey — honey!" 
and  Bonamy  pointed  up  a  tree  to  an 
immense  wasps'  nest. 

Jack  cocked  his  head  on  one  side 
and  swung  his  nose  on  the  other. 


Certainly  those  things  buzzing  about 
looked  like  bees,  though  he  never  be- 
fore saw  a  bees'  nest  of  that  shape, 
or  in  such  a  place. 

But  he  scrambled  up  the  trunk. 
The  men  waited — Lan  in  doubt  as  to 
whether  he  should  let  his  pet  cub  go 
into  such  danger,  Bonamy  insisting  it 
would  be  a  capital  joke  "to  spring 
a  surprise"  on  the  little  Bear.  Jack 
reached  the  branch  that  held  the  big 
nest  high  over  the  deep  water,  but  went 
with  increasing  caution.  He  had  never 
seen  a  bees'  nest  like  this;  it  did  not 
have  the  right  smell.  Then  he  took 
another  step  forward  on  the  branch  — 
what  an  awful  lot  of  bees ;  another  step 
— still  they  were  undoubtedly  bees; 
he  cautiously  advanced  a  foot — and 
bees  mean  honey;  a  little  farther — 
he  was  now  within  four  feet  of  the 
great  paper  globe.  The  bees  hummed 


angrily  and  Jack  stepped  back,  in  doubt. 
The  men  girled;  then  Bonamy  called 
softly  and  untruthfully  :  "  Honey — 
Jacky — honey ! " 

The  little  Bear,  fortunately  for  him- 
self, went  slowly,  since  in  doubt;  he 
made  no  sudden  move,  and  he  waited 
a  lorn*  time,  though  urged  to  go  on,  till 
the  whole  swarm  of  bees  had  reentered 
their  nest.  Now  Jacky  jerked  his  nose 
up,  hitched  softly  out  a  little  farther 
till  right  over  the  fateful  paper  globe. 
He  reached  out,  and  by  lucky  chance 
put  one  horny  little  paw-pad  over  the 
hole;  his  other  arm  grasped  the  nest, 
and  leaping  from  the  branch  he  plunged 
headlong  into  the  pool  below,  taking 
the  whole  thing  with  him.  As  soon  as 
he  reached  the  water  his  hind  feet  were 
seen  tearing  into  the  nest,  kicking  it 
to  pieces;  then  he  let  it  go  and  struck 
out  for  the  shore,  the  nest  floating  in 


;  '  HONEY  —  JACKY  — HONEY' : 


rags  down-stream.  He  ran  alongside 
till  the  comb  lodged  against  a  shallow 
place,  then  he  plunged  in  again;  the 
wasps  were  drowned  or  too  wet  to  be 
dangerous,  and  he  carried  his  prize 
to  the  bank  in  triumph.  No  honey;  of 
course,  that  was  a  disappointment,  but 
there  were  lots  of  fat  white  grubs — 
almost  as  good — and  Jack  ate  till  his 
paunch  looked  like  a  little  rubber  bal- 
loon. 

"How  is  that?"  chuckled  Lan. 

"The  laugh   is  on   us,"  answered          ,... 
Bonamy,  with  a  grimace.  <       «N 


7 


THE  T^OUT  POOL 


Ill 


ACK.  was  now  growing 
into  a  sturdy  cub,  and 
he  would  follow  Kellyan 
even  as  far  as  Bonamy's 
shack.  One  day,  as  they 
watched  him  rolling  head  over  heels 
in  riotous  glee,  Kellyan  remarked  to 
his  friend:  u  I  'm  afraid  some  one  will 
happen  on  him  an'  shoot  him  in  the 
woods  for  a  wild  B'ar." 

"  Then  why  don't  you  ear-mark  him 
with  them  thar  new  sheep-rings ?  "  was 
the  sheep-man's  suggestion. 


,  ^.  Thus  it  was  that,  much  against  his 

*«'&  will,  Jack's  ears  were  punched  and  he 

%(™  was  decorated  with  earrings  like  a  prize 

r^^"  ram.     The   intention   was   good,  but 

/  x2±  \  they  were  neither  ornamental  nor  com- 
\  fortable.  Jack  fought  them  for  days, 
and  when  at  length  he  came  home 
trailing  a  branch  that  was  caught  in 
the  jewel  of  his  left  ear,  Kellyan  im- 
patiently removed  them. 

At  Bonamy's  he  formed  two  new 
acquaintances,  a  blustering,  bullying 
old  ram  that  was  "in  storage n  for  a 
sheep-herder  acquaintance,  and  which 
inspired  him  with  a  lasting  enmity  for 
everything  that  smelt  of  sheep — and 
Bonamy's  dog. 

This  latter  was  an  activet  yapping, 
unpleasant  cur  that  seemed  to  think 
it  rare  fun  to  snap  at  Jacky's  heels, 
then  bound  out  of  reach.  A  joke  is  a 
joke,  but  this  horrid  beast  did  not  know 


where  to  stop,  and  Jack's  first  and  sec- 
ond visits  to  the  Bonamy  hut  were 
quite  spoiled  by  the  tyranny  of  the  dog. 
If  Jack  could  have  got  hold  of  him  he 
might  have  settled  the  account  to  his 
own  satisfaction,  but  he  was  not  quick 
enough  for  that.  His  only  refuge  was 
up  a  tree.  He  soon  discovered  that  he 
was  happier  away  from  Bonamy's,and 
thenceforth  when  he  saw  his  protector 
take  the  turn  that  led  to  the  miner's 
cabin,  Jack  said  plainly  with  a  look, 
"No,  thank  you/'  and  turned  back  to 
amuse  himself  at  home. 

His  enemy,  however,  often  came 
with  Bonamy  to  the  hunter's  cabin,  and 
there  resumed  his  amusement  of  teas- 
ing the  little  Bear.  It  proved  so  in- 
teresting a  pursuit  that  the  dog  learned 
to  come  over  on  his  own  account  when- 
ever he  felt  like  having  some  fun,  until 
at  length  Jack  was  kept  in  continual 


terror  of  theyellow  cur.    But  it  all  ended 
very  suddenly. 

One  hot  day,  while  the  two  men 
smoked  in  front  of  Kellyan's  house,  the 
dog  chased  Jack  up  a  tree  and  then 
stretched  himself  out  for  a  pleasant 
nap  in  the  shade  of  its  branches.  Jack 
was  forgotten  as  the  dog  slumbered, 
The  little  Bear  kept  very  quiet  for  a 
while,  then,  as  his  twinkling  brown 
eyes  came  back  to  that  hateful  dog, 
that  he  could  neither  catch  nor  get 
away  from,  an  idea  seemed  to  grow  in 
his  small  brain.  He  began  to  move 
slowly  and  silently  down  the  branch 
until  he  was  over  the  foe,  slumbering, 
twitching  his  limbs,  and  making  little 
sounds  that  told  of  dreams  of  the  chase, 
or,  more  likely,  dreams  of  tormenting 
a  helpless  Bear  cub.  Of  course,  Jack 
knewnothingofthat.  His  one  thought, 
doubtless,  was  that  he  hated  that  cur 


and  now  he  could  vent  his  hate.  He 
came  just  over  the  tyrant,  and  taking 
careful  aim,  he  jumped  and  landed 
squarely  on  the  dog's  ribs.  It  was  a 
terribly  rude  awakening,  but  the  dog 
gave  no  yelp,  for  the  good  reason  that 
the  breath  was  knocked  out  of  his 
body.  No  bones  were  broken,  though 
he  was  barely  able  to  drag  himself  away 
in  silent  defeat,  while  Jacky  played  a 
lively  tune  on  his  rear  with  paws  that 
were  fringed  with  meat-hooks. 

Evidently  it  was  a  most  excellent 
plan;  and  when  the  dog  came  around 
after  that,  or  when  Jack  went  to  Bon- 
amy's  with  his  master,  as  he  soon  again 
ventured  to  do,  he  would  scheme  with 
more  or  less  success  to  "get  the  drop 
on  the  purp,"  as  the  men  put  it.  The 
dog  now  rapidly  lost  interest  in  Bear- 
baiting,  and  in  a  short  time  it  was  a 
forgotten  sport. 


IV 


THE  STREAM  THAT  S/JNK 
IN  THE  SAN<D 


IV 


ACK.  was  funny;  Jill  was 
sulky.  Jack  was  petted 
and  given  freedom,  so 
grew  funnier;  Jill  was 
beaten  and  chained,  so 
grew  sulkier.  She  had  a  bad  name 
and  she  was  often  punished  for  it;  it 
is  usually  so. 

One  day,  while  Lan  was  away,  Jill 
got  free  and  joined  her  brother.  They 
broke  into  the  little  storehouse  and 
rioted  among  the  provisions.  They 
gorged  themselves  with  the  choicest 


sorts ;  and  the  common  stuffs,  like  flour, 
butter,  and  baking-powder,  brought 
fifty  miles  on  horseback,  were  good 
enough  only  to  be  thrown  about  the 
ground  or  rolled  in.  Jack  had  just  torn 
open  the  last  bag  of  flour,  and  Jill  was 
puzzling  over  a  box  of  miner's  dy- 
namite, when  the  doorway  darkened 
and  there  stood  Kellyan,  a  picture  of 
amazement  and  wrath.  Little  Bears 
do  not  know  anything  about  pictures, 
but  they  have  some  acquaintance  with 
wrath.  They  seemed  to  know  that  they 
were  sinning,  or  at  least  in  danger,  and 
Jill  sneaked,  sulky  and  snuffy,  into  a 
dark  corner,  where  she  glared  defi- 
antly at  the  hunter,  Jack  put  his  head 
on  one  side,  then,  quite  forgetful  of  all 
his  misbehavior,  he  gave  a  delighted 
grunt,  and  scuttling  toward  the  man, 
he  whined,  jerked  his  nose,  and  held 
up  his  sticky,  greasy  arms  to  be  lifted 


'  JACK   .   .   .   HELD   UP  HIS  STICKY,  GREASY  ARMS ' 


and  petted  as  though  he  were  the  best 
little  Bear  in  the  world. 

Alas,  how  likely  we  are  to  be  taken 
at  our  own  estimate !  The  scowl  faded 
from  the  hunter's  brow  as  the  cheeky 
and  deplorable  little  Bear  began  to 
climb  his  leg.  "You  little  divil,"  he 
growled,"  I'llbreakyourcussedneck"; 
but  he  did  not.  He  lifted  the  nasty, 
sticky  little  beast  and  fondled  him  as 
usual,  while  Jill,  no  worse — even  more 
excusable,  because  less  trained  —  suf- 
fered all  the  terrors  of  his  wrath  and 
was  double-chained  to  the  post,  so  as 
to  have  no  further  chance  of  such  ill- 
doing. 

This  was  a  day  of  bad  luck  for  Kell- 
yan.  That  morning  he  had  fallen  and 
broken  his  rifle.  Now,  on  his  return 
home,  he  found  his  provisions  spoiled, 
and  a  new  trial  was  before  him. 

A  stranger  with  a  small  pack-train 


called  at  his  place  that  evening  and 
passed  the  night  with  him.  Jack  was 
in  his  most  frolicsome  mood  and 
amused  them  both  with  tricks  half- 
puppy  and  half-monkey  like,  and  in  the 
morning,  when  the  stranger  was  leav- 
ing, he  said:  "Say,  pard,  I  '11  give  you 
twenty-five  dollars  for  the  pair."  Lan 
hesitated,  thought  of  the  wasted  pro- 
visions, his  empty  purse,  his  broken 
rifle,  and  answered :  "  Make  it  fifty  and 
it's  a  go." 

"  Shake  on  it." 

So  the  bargain  was  made,  the  money 
paid,  and  in  fifteen  minutes  the  stranger 
was  gone  with  a  little  Bear  in  each 
pannier  of  his  horse. 

Jill  was  surly  and  silent;  Jack  kept 
up  a  whining  that  smote  on  Lan's 
heart  with  a  reproachful  sound,  but 
he  braced  himself  with,  "  Guess 
they  're  better  out  of  the  way ;  could  n't 


afford  another  storeroom  racket/'  and 
soon  the  pine  forest  had  swallowed 
up  the  stranger,  his  three  led  horses, 
and  the  two  little  Bears. 

"Well,  I  'm  glad  he  's  gone,"  said 
Lan,  savagely,  though  he  knew  quite 
well  that  he  was  already  scourged  with 
repentance.  He  began  to  set  his  shanty 
in  order.  He  went  to  the  storehouse 
and  gathered  the  remnants  of  the  pro- 
visions. After  all,  there  was  a  good 
deal  left.  He  walked  past  the  box 
where  Jack  used  to  sleep.  How  silent 
itwas!  He  noted  the  place  where  Jack 
used  to  scratch  the  door  to  get  into  the 
cabin,  and  started  at  the  thought  that 
he  should  hear  it  no  more,  and  told 
himself,with  many  cuss-words, that  he 
was  "  mighty  glad  of  it."  He  pottered 
about,  doing — doing — oh,  anything, 
for  an  hour  or  more ;  then  suddenly  he 
leaped  on  his  pony  and  raced  madly 


down  the  trail  on  the  track  of  the 
stranger.  He  put  the  pony  hard  to  it, 
and  in  two  hours  he  overtook  the  train 
at  the  crossing  of  the  river. 

"Say,  pard,  I  done  wrong.  I  didn't 
orter  sell  them  little  B'ars,  leastwise 
not  Jacky.  I — I — wall,  now,  I  want  to 
call  it  off.  Here  's  yer  yellow." 

"  I  'm  satisfied  with  my  end  of  it/1 
said  the  stranger,  coldly. 

"Well,  I  ain't,"  said  Lan,  with 
warmth,  "an'  I  want  it  off." 

"Ye  're  wastin'  time  if  that's  what 
ye  come  for,"  was  the  reply. 

"We'll  see  about  that,"  and  Lan 
threw  the  gold  pieces  at  the  rider  and 
walked  over  toward  the  pannier, where 
Jack  was  whining  joyfully  at  the  sound 
of  the  familiar  voice. 

"  Hands  up,"  said  the  stranger,  with 
the  short,  sharp  tone  of  one  who 
had  said  it  before,  and  Lan  turned  to 


find  himself  covered  with  a  .45  navy 
Colt. 

"  Ye  got  the  drop  on  me/'  he  said; 
"  I  ain't  got  no  gun ;  but  look-a  here, 
stranger,  that  there  little  B'ar  is  the 
only  pard  I  got;  he  rs  my  stiddy  com- 
pany anr  we  rre  almighty  fond  o'  each 
other.  I  didn't  know  how  much  I  was 
a-goinfto  miss  him.  Now  look-a  here: 
take  back  yer  fifty;  ye  give  me  Jack 
an'  keep  Jill." 

"If  ye  got  five  hundred  cold  plunks 
in  yaller  ye  kin  get  him;  if  not,  you 
walk  straight  to  that  tree  thar  an' 
don't  drop  yer  hands  or  turn  or  I  '11 
fire.  Now  start." 

Mountain  etiquette  is  very  strict, 
and  Lan,  being  without  weapons,  must 
needs  obey  the  rules.  He  marched  to 
the  distant  tree  under  cover  of  the  re- 
volver. The  wail  of  little  Jack  smote 
painfully  on  his  ear,  but  he  knew  the 


ways  of  the  mountaineers  too  well  to 
turn  or  make  another  offer,  and  the 
stranger  went  on. 

Many  a  man  has  spent  a  thousand 
dollars  in  efforts  to  capture  some  wild 
thing  and  felt  it  worth  the  cost — for 
a  time.  Then  he  is  willing  to  sell 
it  for  half  cost,  then  for  quarter,  and  at 
length  he  ends  by  giving  it  away.  The 
stranger  was  vastly  pleased  with  his 
comical  Bear  cubs  at  first,  and  valued 
them  proportionately;  but  each  day 
they  seemed  more  troublesome  and  less 
amusing,  so  that  when,  a  week  later,  at 
the  Bell-Cross  Ranch,  he  was  offered 
a  horse  for  the  pair,  he  readily  closed, 
and  their  days  of  hamper-travel  were 
over. 

The  owner  of  the  ranch  was  neither 
mild,  refined,  nor  patient.  Jack,  good- 
natured  as  he  was,  partly  grasped  these 
facts  as  he  found  himself  taken  from 


the  pannier,  but  when  it  came  to  get- 
ting cranky  little  Jill  out  of  the  basket 
and  into  a  collar,  there  ensued  a  scene 
so  unpleasant  that  no  collarwas  needed. 
The  ranchman  wore  his  hand  in  a  sling 
for  two  weeks,  and  Jacky  at  his  chain's 
end  paced  the  ranch-yard  alone. 


THE 


V 

HBL<D  IN  THE 
FOOTHILLS 


HE  RE  was  little  of  pleas- 
ant interest  in  the  next 
eighteen  monthsof  Jack's 
career.  His  share  of  the 
globe  was  a  twenty-foot 
circle  around  a  pole  in  the  yard.  The 
blue  hills  of  the  offing,  the  nearer  pine 
grove,  and  even  the  ranch-house  itself 
were  fixed  stars,  far  away  and  sending 
merely  faint  suggestions  of  their  splen- 
dors to  his  not  very  bright  eyes.  Even 
the  horses  and  men  were  outside  his 
little  sphere  and  related  to  him  about 


w??vi££ 


as  much  as  comets  are  to  the  earth. 
The  very  tricks  that  had  made  him 
valued  were  being  forgotten  as  Jack 
grew  up  in  chains. 

At  first  a  butter-firkin  had  made  him 
an  ample  den,  but  he  rapidly  passed 
through  the  various  stages  —  butter- 
firkin,  nail-keg,  flour-barrel,  oil-barrel 
—  and  had  now  to  be  graded  as  a  good 
average  hogshead  Bear,  though  he  was 
fa*  from  filling  that  big  round  wooden 
cavern  that  formed  his  latest  den. 

The  ranch  hotel  lay  just  where  the 
foothills  of  the  Sierras  with  theirgroves 
of  live  oaks  were  sloping  into  the 
golden  plains  of  the  Sacramento.  Na- 
ture had  showered  on  it  every  wonder- 
ful gift  in  her  lap.  A  foreground  rich 
with  flowers,  luxuriant  in  fruit,  shade 
anc^  sunr  ^ry  pastures,  rushing  rivers, 
and  murmuring  rills,  were  here.  Great 
trees  were  variants  of  the  view,  and  the 


»»-* 

<\\,- 


high  Sierras  to  the  east  overtopped 
the  wondrous  plumy  forests  of  their 
pines  with  blocks  of  sculptured  blue. 
Back  of  the  house  was  a  noble  river 
of  water  from  the  hillsr  fouled  and 
chained  by  sluice  and  dam,  but  still  a 
noble  stream  whose  earliest  parent  rill 
had  gushed  from  grim  old  Tallac's 
slope. 

Things  of  beauty,  life,  and  color  were 
on  every  side,  and  yet  most  sordid  of 
the  human  race  were  the  folk  about 
the  ranch  hotel.  To  see  them  in  this 
setting  might  well  raise  doubt  that  any 
"rise  from  Nature  up  to  Nature'sGod." 
No  city  slum  has  ever  shown  a  more 
ignoble  crew,  and  Jack,  if  his  mind 
were  capable  of  such  things,  must  have 
graded  the  two-legged  ones  lower  in 
proportion  as  he  knew  them  better. 

Cruelty  was  his  lot,  and  hate  was 
his  response..  Almost  the  only  amus- 


ing  trick  he  now  did  was  helping  him- 
self to  a  drink  of  beer.  He  was  very 
fond  of  beer,  and  the  loafers  about  the 
tavern  often  gave  him  a  bottle  to  see 
how  dexterously  he  would  twist  off  the 
wire  and  work  out  the  cork.  As  soon 
as  it  popped,  he  would  turn  it  up  be- 
tween his  paws  and  drink  to  the  last 
drop. 

The  monotony  of  his  life  was  occa- 
sionally varied  with  a  dog  fight.  His 
tormentors  would  bring  their  Bear 
dogs  "to  try  them  on  the  cub/'  It 
seemed  to  be  very  pleasant  sport  to 
men  and  dogs,  till  Jack  learned  how 
to  receive  them.  At  first  he  used  to 
rush  furiously  at  the  nearest  tormentor 
until  brought  up  with  a  jerk  at  the  end 
of  his  chain  and  completely  exposed  to 
attack  behind  from  another  dog.  A 
month  or  two  entirely  changed  his 
method.  He  learned  to  sit  against  the 


m 

hogshead  and  quietly  watch  the  noisy 
dogs  around  him,  with  much  show  of 
inattention,  making  no  move,  no  mat- 
ter how  near  they  were,  until  they 
u  bunched,"  that  is,  gathered  in  one 
place.  Then  he  charged.  It  was  inevi- 
table that  the  hind  dogs  would  be  the 
last  to  jump,  and  so  hindered  the  front 
ones;  thus  Jack  would  "get"  one  or 
more  of  them,  and  the  game  became 
unpopular. 

When  about  eighteen  months  old, 
and  half  grown,  an  incident  took  place 
which  defied  all  explanation.  Jack  had 
won  the  name  of  being  dangerous,  for 
he  had  crippled  one  man  with  a  blow 
and  nearly  killed  a  tipsy  fool  who  vol- 
unteered to  fight  him.  A  harmless 
butgood-for-nothingsheep-herderwho 
loafed  about  the  place  got  very  drunk 
one  night  and  offended  somef  ire-eaters. 
They  decided  that,  as  he  had  no  gun, 


it  would  be  the  proper  thing  to  club 
him  to  their  hearts'  content  instead  of 
shooting  him  full  of  holes,  in  the  man- 
ner usually  prescribed  by  their  code. 
Faco  Tampico  made  for  the  door  and 
staggered  out  into  the  darkness.  His 
pursuers  were  even  more  drunk,  but, 
bent  on  mischief,  they  gave  chase,  and 
Faco  dodged  back  of  the  house  and 
into  the  yard.  The  mountaineers  had 
just  wit  enough  to  keep  out  of  reach  of 
the  Grizzly  as  they  searched  about  for 
their  victim,  but  they  did  not  find  him. 
Then  they  got  torches,  and  making 
sure  that  he  was  not  in  the  yard,  were 
satisfied  that  he  had  fallen  into  the 
river  behind  the  barn  and  doubtless  was 
drowned.  A  few  rude  jokes,  and  they 
returned  to  the  house.  As  they  passed 
the  Grizzly's  den  their  lanterns  awoke 
in  his  eyes  a  glint  of  fire.  In  the  morn- 
ing the  cook,  beginning  his  day,  heard 


strange  sounds  in  the  yard.  They  came 
from  the  Grizzly's  den:  "  Hyar,  you, 
lay  over  dahr,"  in  sleepy  tones;  then 
a  deep,  querulous  grunting. 

The  cook  went  as  close  as  he  dared 
and  peeped  in.  Said  the  same  voice  in 
sleepy  tones:  "Who  are  ye  crowding 
caramba!"  and  a  human  elbow  was 
seen  jerking  and  pounding ;  and  again 
impatient  growling  in  bear-like  tones 
was  the  response. 

The  sun  came  up  and  the  astonished 
loafers  found  it  was  the  missing  sheep- 
herder  that  was  in  the  Bear's  den, 
calmly  sleeping  off  his  debauch  in  the 
very  cave  of  death.  The  men  tried  to 
get  him  out,  but  the  Grizzly  plainly 
showed  that  they  could  do  so  only  over 
his  dead  body.  He  charged  with  vin- 
dictive fury  at  any  who  ventured  near, 
and  when  they  gave  up  the  attempt  he 
lay  down  at  the  door  of  the  den  on  guard. 


Glorious 

*  I 

V— 


At  length  the  sheep-herder  came  to 
himself,  rose  up  on  his  elbows,  and 
realizing  that  he  was  in  the  power  of 
the  young  Grizzly,  he  stepped  gingerly 
over  his  guardian's  back  and  ran  off 
without  even  saying  "  Thank  you." 

The  Fourth  of  July  was  at  hand  now, 
and  the  owner  of  the  tavern,  growing 
weary  of  the  huge  captive  in  the  yard, 
announced  that  he  would  celebrate  In- 
dependence Day  with  a  grand  fight  be- 
tween a  "picked  and  fighting  range  bull 
and  a  ferocious  Californian  Grizzly/' 
The  news  was  spread  far  and  wide  by 
the  "Grapevine  Telegraph."  The  roof 
of  the  stable  was  covered  with  seats  at 
fifty  cents  each.  The  hay-wagon  was 
half  loaded  and  drawn  alongside  the 
corral ;  seats  here  gave  a  perfect  view 
and  were  sold  at  a  dollar  apiece.  The 
old  corral  was  repaired,  new  posts  put 
in  where  needed,  and  the  first  thing  in 


the  morning  a  vicious  old  bull  was 
herded  in  and  tormented  till  he  was 
"snuffy"  and  extremely  dangerous. 

Jack  meanwhile  had  been  roped, 
"choked  down,"  and  nailed  up  in  his 
hogshead.  His  chain  and  collar  were 
permanently  riveted  together,  so  the 
collar  was  taken  off,  as  "it  would  be 
easy  to  rope  him,  if  need  be,  after  the 
bull  was  through  with  lnim" 

The  hogshead  was  rolled  over  to 
the  corral  gate  and  all  was  ready. 

The  cowboys  came  from  far  and  near 
in  their  most  gorgeous  trappings,  and 
the  California  cowboy  is  the  peacock  of 
his  race.  Their  best  girls  were  with 
them,  and  farmers  and  ranchmen  came 
for  fifty  miles  to  enjoy  the  Bull-and- 
Bear  fight.  Miners  from  the  hills  were 
there,  Mexican  sheep-herders,  store- 
keepers from  Placerville,  strangers 
from  Sacramento;  town  and  county, 


mountain  and  plain,  were  represented. 
The  hay-wagon  went  so  well  that 
another  was  brought  into  market. 
The  barn  roof  was  sold  out.  An  omi- 
nous crack  of  the  timbers  somewhat 
shook  the  prices,  but  a  couple  of 
strong  uprights  below  restored  the 
market,  and  all  "The  Corners"  was 
ready  and  eager  for  the  great  fight. 
Men  who  had  been  raised  among 
cattle  were  betting  on  the  bull. 

"  I  tell  you,  there  ain't  nothing  on 
earth  kin  face  a  big  range  bull  that 
hez  good  use  of  hisself." 

But  the  hillmen  were  backing  the 
Bear.  "  Pooh,  what  's  a  bull  to  a 
Grizzly?  I  tell  you,  I  seen  a  Grizzly 
send  a  horse  clean  over  the  Hetch- 
Hetchy  with  one  clip  of  his  left.  Bull ! 
I  '11  bet  he  '11  never  show  up  in  the 
second  round." 
€H>  jT\?  So  they  wrangled  and  bet, while  burly 

Rs-V. 


•55*v 


women,  trying  to  look  fetching,  gave 
themselves  a  variety  of  airs,  were 
"  scared  at  the  whole  thing,  nervous 
about  the  uproar,  afraid  it  would  be 
shocking/'  but  really  were  as  keenly 
interested  as  the  men. 

All  was  ready,  and  the  boss  of  u  The 
Corners"  shouted:  "  Let  her  go, boys; 
house  is  full  an'  time  's  up!" 

Faco  Tampico  had  managed  to  tie  a 
bundle  of  chaparral  thorn  to  the  bull's 
tail,  so  that  the  huge  creature  had 
literally  lashed  himself  into  a  frenzy. 

Jack's  hogshead  meanwhile  had 
been  rolled  around  till  he  was  raging 
with  disgust,  and  Faco,  at  the  word 
of  command,  began  to  pry  open  the 
door.  The  end  of  the  barrel  was  close 
to  the  fence,  the  door  cleared  away; 
now  there  was  nothing  for  Jack  to  do 
but  to  go  forth  and  claw  the  bull. to 
pieces.  But  he  did  not  go.  The  noise, 


the  uproar,  the  strangeness  of  the 
crowd  affected  him  so  that  he  decided 
to  stay  where  he  was,  and  the  bull- 
backers  raised  a  derisive  cry.  Their 
champion  came  forward  bellowing  and 
sniffing,  pausing  often  to  paw  the  dust. 
He  held  his  head  very  high  and  ap- 
proached slowly  until  he  came  within 
ten  feet  of  the  Grizzly's  den ;  then, giv- 
ing a  snort,  he  turned  and  ran  to  the 
other  end  of  the  corral.  Now  it  was 
the  Bear-backers'  turn  to  shout. 

But  the  crowd  wanted  a  fight,  and 
Faco,  forgetful  of  his  debt  to  Grizzly 
Jack,  dropped  a  bundle  of  Fourth  of 
July  crackers  into  the  hogshead  by 
way  of  the  bung.  "Crack!"  and  Jack 
jumped  up.  "Fizz  —  crack — c-r-r-r- 
a-a-c-k,  cr-k-crk-ck !  "  and  Jack  in  sur- 
prise rushed  from  his  den  into  the 
arena.  The  bull  was  standing  in  a 
magnificent  attitude  there  in  the  mid- 


die,  but  when  he  saw  the  Bear  spring 
toward  him,  he  gave  two  mighty  snorts 
and  retreated  as  far  as  he  could,  amid 
cheers  and  hisses. 

Perhaps  the  two  main  characteris- 
tics of  the  Grizzly  are  the  quickness 
with  which  he  makes  a  plan  and  the 
vigor  with  which  he  follows  it  up.  Be- 
fore the  bull  had  reached  the  far  side 
of  the  corral  Jack  seemed  to  know  the 
wisest  of  courses.  His  pig-like  eyes 
swept  the  fence  in  a  flash — took  in  the 
most  climbable  part,  a  place  where  a 
cross-piece  was  nailed  on  in  the  mid- 
dle. In  three  seconds  he  was  there,  in 
two  seconds  he  was  over,  and  in  one 
second  he  dashed  through  the  running, 
scattering  mob  and  was  making  for  the 
hills  as  fast  as  his  strong  and  supple 
legscouldcarryhim.  Women  screamed, 
men  yelled,  and  dogs  barked;  there 
was  a  wild  dash  for  the  horses  tied  far 


from  the  scene  of  the  fight,  to  spare 
their  nerves,  but  the  Grizzly  had  three 
hundred  yards' start,  five  hundred  yards 
even,  and  before  the  gala  mob  gave  out 
a  long  and  flying  column  of  reckless, 
riotous  riders,  the  Grizzly  had  plunged 
into  the  river,  a  flood  no  dog  cared  to 
face,  and  had  reached  the  chaparral 
and  the  broken  ground  in  line  for  the 
piney  hills.  In  an  hour  the  ranch  hotel, 
with  its  galling  chain,  its  cruelties,  and 
its  brutal  human  beings,  was  a  thing  of 
the  past,  shut  out  by  the  hills  of  his 
youth,  cut  off  by  the  river  of  his  cub- 
hood,  the  river  grown  from  the  rill  born 
in  his  birthplace  away  in  Tallac's  pines. 
That  Fourth  of  July  was  a  glorious 
Fourth  —  it  was  Independence  Day  for 
Grizzly  Jack. 


VI 


THE  <B^OKEN  <DAM 


VI 


WOUNDED  deer  usu- 
ally works  downhill,  a 
hunted  Grizzly  climbs. 
Jack  knew  nothing  of  the 
country,  but  he  did  know 
that  he  wanted  to  get  away  from  that 
mob,  so  he  sought  the  roughest 
ground,  and  climbed  and  climbed. 

He  had  been  alone  for  hours,  trav- 
eling up  and  on.  The  plain  was  lost 
to  view.  He  was  among  the  granite 
rocks,  the  pine  trees,  and  the  berries 
now,  and  he  gathered  in  food  from  the 


low  bushes  with  dexterous  paws  and 
tongue  as  he  traveled,  but  stopped  not 
at  all  until  among  the  tumbled  rock, 
where  the  sun  heat  of  the  afternoon 
seemed  to  command  rather  than  invite 
him  to  rest. 

The  night  was  black  when  he  awoke, 
but  Bears  are  not  afraid  of  the  dark  — 
they  rather  fear  the  day —  and  he  swung 
along,  led,  as  before,  by  the  impulse  to 
get  up  above  the  danger;  and  thus  at 
last  he  reached  the  highest  range,  the 
region  .of  his  native  Tallac. 

He  had  but  little  of  the  usual  train- 
ing of  a  young  Bear,  but  he  had  a  few 
instincts,  his  birthright,  that  stood  him 
well  in  all  the  main  issues,  and  his  nose 
was  an  excellent  guide.  Thus  he  man- 
aged to  live,  and  wild-life  experiences 
coming  fast  gave  his  mind  the  chance 
to  grow. 

Jack's  memory  for  faces  and  facts 


was  not  at  all  good,  but  his  memory 
for  smells  was  imperishable.  He  had 
forgotten  Bonamy's  cur,  but  the  smell 
of  Bonamy's  cur  would  instantly  have 
thrilled  him  with  the  old  feelings.  He 
had  forgotten  the  cross  ram,  but  the 
smell  of  "Old  Woolly  Whiskers"  would 
have  inspired  him  at  once  with  anger 
and  hate;  and  one  evening  when  the 
wind  came  richly  laden  with  ram  smell 
it  was  like  a  bygone  life  returned.  He 
had  been  living  on  roots  and  berries 
for  weeks  and  now  began  to  experience 
that  hankering  for  flesh  that  comes  on 
every  candid  vegetarian  with  danger- 
ous force  from  time  to  time.  The 
ram  smell  seemed  an  answer  to  it. 
So  down  he  went  by  night  (no  sensible 
Bear  travels  by  day),  and  the  smell 
brought  him  from  the  pines  on  the  hill- 
side to  an  open  rocky  dale. 

Long  before  he  got  there  a  curious 


light  shone  up.  He  knew  what  that 
was;  he  had  seen  the  two-legged  ones 
make  it  near  the  ranch  of  evil  smells 
and  memories,  so  feared  it  not.  He 
swung  along  from  ledge  to  ledge  in 
silence  and  in  haste,  for  the  smell  of 
sheep  grew  stronger  at  every  stride, 
and  when  he  reached  a  place  above 
the  fire  he  blinked  his  eyes  to  find  the 
sheep.  The  smell  was  strong  now;  it 
was  rank,  but  no  sheep  to  be  seen. 
Instead  he  saw  in  the  valley  a  stretch 
of  gray  water  that  seemed  to  reflect  the 
stars,  and  yet  they  neither  twinkled 
nor  rippled;  there  was  a  murmuring 
sound  from  the  sheet,  but  it  seemed 
not  at  all  like  that  of  the  lakes  around. 
The  stars  were  clustered  chiefly 
near  the  fire,  and  were  less  like  stars 
than  spots  of  the  phosphorescent  wood 
that  are  scattered  on  the  ground  when 
one  knocks  a  rotten  stump  about  to 


lick  up  its  swarms  of  wood-ants.  So 
Jack  came  closer,  and  at  last  so  close 
that  even  his  dull  eyes  could  see.  The 
great  gray  lake  was  a  flock  of  sheep 
and  the  phosphorescent  specks  were 
their  eyes.  Close  by  the  fire  was  a  log 
or  a  low  rough  bank — that  turned  out 
to  be  the  shepherd  and  his  dog.  Both 
were  objectionable  features,  but  the 
sheep  extended  far  from  them.  Jack 
knew  that  his  business  was  with  the 
flock. 

He  came  very  close  to  the  edge  and 
found  them  surrounded  by  a  low  hedge 
of  chaparral;  but  what  little  things 
they  were  compared  with  that  great 
and  terrible  ram  that  he  dimly  re- 
membered !  The  blood-thirst  came  on 
him.  He  swept  the  low  hedge  aside, 
charged  into  the  mass  of  sheep  that 
surged  away  from  him  with  rushing 
sounds  of  feet  and  murmuring  groans, 


struck  down  one,  seized  it,  and  turn- 
ing away,  he  scrambled  back  up  the 
mountains. 

The  sheep-herder  leaped  to  his 
feet,  fired  his  gun,  and  the  dog  came 
running  over  the  solid  mass  of  sheep, 
barking  loudly.  But  Jack  was  gone. 
The  sheep-herder  contented  himself 
with  making  two  or  three  fires,  shoot- 
ing off  his  gun,  and  telling  his  beads. 

That  was  Jack's  first  mutton,  but 
it  was  not  the  last.  Thenceforth  when 
he  wanted  a  sheep — and  it  became  a 
regular  need — he  knew  he  had  merely 
to  walk  along  the  ridge  till  his  nose 
said,  "Turn,  and  go  so/'  for  smelling 
is  believing  in  Bear  life. 


VII 

THE  FRESHET 


fl 


VII 

EDRO  TAMPICO  and 
his  brother  Facowerenot 
in  the  sheep  business  for 
any  maudlin  sentiment. 
They  did  not  march 
ahead  of  their  beloveds  waving  a 
crook  as  wand  of  office  or  appealing 
to  the  esthetic  sides  of  their  ideal  fol- 
lowers with  a  tabret  and  pipe.  Far 
from  leading  the  flock  with  a  symbol, 
they  drove  them  with  an  armful  of  ever- 
ready  rocks  and  clubs.  They  were  not 
shepherds  ;  they  were  sheep-herders. 


They  did  not  view  their  charges  as 
loved  and  loving  followers,  but  as  four- 
legged  cash ;  each  sheep  was  worth  a 
dollar  bill.  They  were  cared  for  only 
as  a  man  cares  for  his  money,  and 
counted  after  each  alarm  or  day  of 
travel.  It  is  not  easy  for  any  one  to 
count  three  thousand  sheep,  and  for 
a  Mexican  sheep-herder  it  is  an  im- 
possibility. But  he  has  a  simple  de- 
vice which  answers  the  purpose.  In 
an  ordinary  flock  about  one  sheep  in 
a  hundred  is  a  black  one.  If  a  portion 
of  the  flock  has  gone  astray,  there  is 
likely  to  be  a  black  one  in  it.  So  by 
counting  his  thirty  black  sheep  each 
day  Tampico  kept  rough  count  of  his 
entire  flock. 

Grizzly  Jack  had  killed  but  one 
sheep  that  first  night.  On  his  next 
visit  he  killed  two,  and  on  the  next 
but  one,  yet  that  last  one  happened  to 


be  black,  and  when  Tampico  found 
but  twenty-nine  of  its  kind  remaining 
he  safely  reasoned  that  he  was  losing 
sheep  —  according  to  the  index  a  hun- 
dred were  gone. 

u  If  the  land  is  unhealthy  move  out n 
is  ancient  wisdom.  Tampico  filled  his 
pocket  with  stones,  and  reviling  his 
charges  in  all  their  walks  in  life  and 
history,  he  drove  them  from  the  coun- 
try that  was  evidently  the  range  of 
a  sheep-eater.  At  night  he  found  a 
walled-in  canon,  a  natural  corral,  and 
the  woolly  scattering  swarm, condensed 
into  a  solid  fleece,  went  pouring  into 
the  gap,  urged  intelligently  by  the  dog 
and  idiotically  by  the  man.  At  one  side 
of  the  entrance  Tampico  made  his  fire. 
Some  thirty  feet  away  was  a  sheer  wall 
of  rock. 

Ten  miles  may  be  a  long  day's 
travel  for  a  wretched  wool-plant,  but 


it  is  little  more  than  two  hours  for  a 
Grizzly.  It  is  farther  than  eyesight, 
but  it  is  well  within  nosesight,  and 
Jack,  feeling  mutton-hungry,  had  not 
the  least  difficulty  in  following  his 
prey.  His  supper  was  a  little  later  than 
usual,  but  his  appetite  was  the  better 
for  that.  There  was  no  alarm  in  camp, 
so  Tampico  had  fallen  asleep.  A 
growl  from  the  dog  awakenedhim.  He 
started  up  to  behold  the  most  appal- 
ling creature  that  he  had  ever  seen  or 
imagined,  a  monster  Bear  standing  on 
his  hind  legs,  and  thirty  feet  high  at 
least.  The  dog  fled  in  terror,  but  was 
valor  itself  compared  with  Pedro.  He 
was  so  frightened  that  he  could  not 
express  the  prayer  that  was  in  his 
breast:  "  Blessed  saints,  let  him  have 
every  sin-blackened  sheep  in  the  band, 
but  spare  your  poor  worshiper/'  and 
he  hid  his  head;  so  never  learned  that 


THE  THIRTY-FOOT  BEAR 


he  saw,  not  a  thirty-foot  Bear  thirty 
feet  away,  but  a  seven-foot  Bear  not 
far  from  the  fire  and  casting  a  black 
thirty-foot  shadow  on  the  smooth  rock 
behind.  And,  helpless  with  fear,  poor 
Pedro  groveled  in  the  dust. 

When  he  looked  up  the  giant  Bear 
was  gone.  There  was  a  rushing  of 
the  sheep.  A  small  body  of  them  scur- 
ried out  of  the  canon  into  the  night, 
and  after  them  went  an  ordinary-sized 
Bear,  undoubtedly  a  cub  of  the  mon- 
ster. 

Pedro  had  been  neglecting  his 
prayers  for  some  months  back,  but  he 
afterward  assured  his  father  confessor 
that  on  this  night  he  caught  up  on  all 
arrears  and  had  a  goodly  surplus  be- 
fore morning.  At  sunrise  he  left  his 
dog  in  charge  of  the  flock  and  set  out 
to  seek  the  runaways,  knowing,  first, 
that  there  was  little  danger  in  the  day- 


time,  second,  that  some  would  escape. 
The  missing  ones  were  a  considerable 
number,  raised  to  the  second  power 
indeed,  for  two  more  black  ones  were 
gone.  Strange  to  tell,  they  had  not 
scattered,  and  Pedro  trailed  them  a 
mile  or  more  in  the  wilderness  till  he 
reached  another  very  small  box  canon. 
Here  he  found  the  missing  flock 
perched  in  various  places  on  boulders 
and  rocky  pinnacles  as  high  up  as 
they  could  get.  He  was  delighted  and 
worked  for  half  a  minute  on  his  bank 
surplus  of  prayers,  but  was  sadly  upset 
to  find  that  nothing  would  induce  the 
sheep  to  come  down  from  the  rocks 
or  leave  that  canon.  One  or  two  that 
he  manceuvered  as  far  as  the  outlet 
sprang  back  in  fear  from  something  on 
the  ground,  which,  on  examination,  he 
found — yes,  he  swears  to  this  —  to  be 
the  deep-worn,  fresh-worn  pathway  of 


a  Grizzly  from  one  wall  across  to  the 
other.  All  the  sheep  were  now  back 
again  beyond  his  reach.  Pedro  began 
to  fear  for  himself,  so  hastily  returned 
to  the  main  flock.  He  was  worse  off 
than  ever  now.  The  other  Grizzly 
was  a  Bear  of  ordinary  size  and  ate  a 
sheep  each  night,  but  the  new  one, 
into  whose  range  he  had  entered,  was 
a  monster,  a  Bear  mountain,  requiring 
forty  or  fifty  sheep  to  a  meal.  The 
sooner  he  was  out  of  this  the  better. 
It  was  now  late,  too  late,  and  the 
sheep  were  too  tired  to  travel,  so  Pedro 
made  unusual  preparations  for  the 
night :  two  big  fires  at  the  entrance  to 
the  canon,  and  a  platform  fifteen  feet 
up  in  a  tree  for  his  own  bed.  The  dog 
could  look  out  for  himself. 


VIII 

IN  THE  CANON 


K 


VIII 

EDRO  knew  that  the  big 
Bear  was  coming ;  for  the 
fifty  sheep  in  the  little 
canon  were  not  more  than 
an  appetizer  for  such  a 
creature.  Heloaded  hisguncarefullyas 
a  matter  of  habit  and  went  up-stairs  to 
bed.  Whatever  defects  his  dormitory 
had  the  ventilation  was  good,  and 
Pedro  was  soon  a-shiver.  He  looked 
down  in  envy  at  his  dog  curled  up  by 
the  fire ;  then  he  prayed  that  the  saints 
might  intervene  and  direct  the  steps  of 


the  Bear  toward  the  flock  of  some 
neighbor,  and  carefully  specified  the 
neighbor  to  avoid  mistakes.  He  tried 
to  pray  himself  to  sleep.  It  had  never 
failed  in  church  when  he  was  at  the 
Mission,  so  why  now?  But  for  once 
it  did  not  succeed.  The  fearsome  hour 
of  midnight  passed,  then  the  gray  dawn, 
the  hour  of  dull  despair,  was  near. 
Tampico  felt  it,  and  a  long  groan  vi- 
brated through  his  chattering  teeth. 
His  dog  leaped  up,  barked  savagely, 
the  sheep  began  to  stir,  then  went 
backing  into  the  gloom ;  there  was  a 
rushing  of  stampeding  sheep  and  a 
huge,  dark  form  loomed  up.  Tampico 
grasped  his  gun  and  would  have  fired, 
when  it  dawned  on  him  with  sicken- 
ing horror  that  the  Bear  was  thirty  feet 
high, his  platform  was  only  fifteen,  just 
a  convenient  height  for  the  monster. 
None  but  a  madman  would  invite  the 


Bear  to  eat  by  shooting  at  him  now. 
So  Pedro  flattened  himself  face  down- 
ward on  the  platform,  and,  with  his 
mouth  to  a  crack,  he  poured  forth 
prayers  to  his  representative  in  the 
sky,  regretting  his  unconventional  at- 
titude and  profoundly  hoping  that  it 
would  be  overlooked  as  unavoidable, 
and  that  somehow  the  petitions  would 
get  the  right  direction  after  leaving  the 
under  side  of  the  platform. 

In  the  morning  he  had  proof  that 
his  prayers  had  been  favorably  re- 
ceived. There  was  a  Bear-track,  in- 
deed, but  the  number  of  black  sheep 
was  unchanged,  so  Pedro  filled  his 
pocket  with  stones  and  began  his  usual 
torrent  of  remarks  as  he  drove  the 
flock. 

"Hyah,  Capitan — you  huajalote," 
as  the  dog  paused  to  drink.  "  Bring 
back  those  ill-descended  sons  of  per- 


dition,"  and  a  stone  gave  force  to  the 
order,  which  the  dog  promptly  obeyed. 
Hovering  about  the  great  host  of 
grumbling  hoofy  locusts,  he  kept  them 
together  and  on  the  move,  while  Pedro 
played  the  part  of  a  big,  noisy,  and 
troublesome  second. 

As  they  journeyed  through  the  open 
country  the  sheep-herder's  eye  fell  on 
a  human  figure,  a  man  sitting  on  a 
rock  above  them  to  the  left.  Pedro 
gazed  inquiringly;  the  man  saluted 
and  beckoned.  This  meant  u  friend  "  ; 
had  he  motioned  him  to  pass  on  it  might 
have  meant,  u  Keep  away  or  I  shoot." 
Pedro  walked  toward  him  a  little  way 
and  sat  down.  The  man  came  forward. 
It  was  Lan  Kellyan,  the  hunter. 

Each  was  glad  of  a  chance  to  "talk 
with  a  human"  and  to  get  the  news. 
The  latest  concerning  the  price  of 
wool,  the  Bull-and-Bear  fiasco,  and, 


above  all,  the  monster  Bear  that  had 
killed  Tampico's  sheep, afforded  topics 
of  talk.  "  Ah,  a  Bear  devill  — de  hell- 
brute — a  Gringo  Bear — pardon,  my 
amigo,  I  mean  a  very  terroar." 

As  the  sheep-herder  enlarged  on  the 
marvelous  cunning  of  the  Bear  that 
had  a  private  sheep  corral  of  his  own, 
and  the  size  of  the  monster,  forty  or 
fifty  feet  high  now — for  such  Bears 
are  of  rapid  and  continuous  growth  — 
Kellyan's  eye  twinkled  and  he  said: 

"  Say,  Pedro,  I  believe  you  once 
lived  pretty  nigh  the  Hassayampa, 
did  n't  you?" 

This  does  not  mean  that  that  is  a 
country  of  great  Bears,  but  was  an 
allusion  to  the  popular  belief  that  any 
one  who  tastes  a  single  drop  of  the 
Hassayampa  River  can  never  after- 
ward tell  the  truth.  Some  scientists 
who  have  looked  into  the  matter  aver 


that  this  wonderful  property  is  common 
to  the  Rio  Grande  as  well  as  the  Has- 
sayampa,  and,  indeed,  all  the  rivers  of 
Mexico,  as  well  as  their  branches, and 
the  springs,  wells,  ponds,  lakes,  and 
irrigation  ditches.  However  that  may 
be,  the  Hassayampa  is  the  best-known 
stream  of  this  remarkable  peculiarity. 
The  higher  one  goes,  the  greater  its 
potency,  and  Pedro  was  from  the  head- 
waters. But  he  protested  by  all  the 
saints  that  his  story  was  true.  He 
pulled  out  a  little  bottle  of  garnets,  got 
by  glancing  over  the  rubbish  laid  about 
their  hills  by  the  desert  ants ;  he  thrust 
it  back  into  his  wallet  and  produced 
another  bottle  with  a  small  quantity  of 
gold-dust,  also  gathered  at  the  rare 
times  when  he  was  not  sleepy,  and  the 
sheep  did  not  need  driving,  watering, 
stoning,  or  reviling. 

"  Here,  I  bet  dat  it  ees  so." 

Gold  is  a  loud  talker. 


Kellyan  paused.  "  I  can't  coveryour 
bet,  Pedro,  but  I  '11  kill  your  Bear  for 
what  's  in  the  bottle." 

"  I  takeyou/'  said  the  sheep-herder, 
"eef  you  breeng  back  dose  sheep  dat 
are  now  starving  up  on  de  rocks  of  de 
canon  of  Baxstaire's." 

The  Mexican's  eyes  twinkled  as  the 
white  man  closed  on  the  offer.  The 
gold  in  the  bottle,  ten  or  fifteen  dollars, 
was  a  trifle,  and  yet  enough  to  send 
the  hunter  on  the  quest — enough  to 
lure  him  into  the  enterprise,  and  that 
was  all  that  was  needed.  Pedro  knew 
his  man:  get  him  going  and  profit 
would  count  for  nothing;  having  put 
his  hand  to  the  plow  Lan  Kellyan 
would  finish  the  furrow  at  any  cost; 
he  was  incapable  of  turning  back.  And 
again  he  took  up  the  trail  of  Grizzly 
Jack,  his  one-time  "pard,"  now  grown 
beyond  his  ken. 

The  hunter  went  straight  to  Bax- 


ter's  canon  and  found  the  sheep  high- 
perched  upon  the  rocks.  By  the  en- 
trance he  found  the  remains  of  two 
of  them  recently  devoured,  and  about 
them  the  tracks  of  a  medium-sized 
Bear.  He  saw  nothing  of  the  path- 
way—  the  dead-line  —  made  by  the 
Grizzly  to  keep  the  sheep  prisoners 
till  he  should  need  them.  But  the 
sheep  were  standing  in  stupid  terror 
on  various  high  places,  apparently  will- 
ing to  starve  rather  than  come  down. 
Lan  dragged  one  down ;  at  once  it 
climbed  up  again.  He  now  realized 
the  situation,  so  made  a  small  pen  of 
chaparral  outside  the  canon,  and  drag- 
ging the  dull  creatures  down  one  at  a 
time,  he  carried  them — except  one- 
out  of  the  prison  of  death  and  into  the 
pen.  Next  he  made  a  hasty  fence 
across  the  canon's  mouth,  and  turn- 
ing the  sheep  out  of  the  pen,  he  drove 


them  by  slow  stages  toward  the  rest 
of  the  flock. 

Only  six  or  seven  miles  across  coun- 
try, but  it  was  late  night  when  Lan 
arrived. 

Tampico  gladly  turned  over  half  of 
the  promised  dust.  That  night  they 
camped  together,  and,  of  course,  no 
Bear  appeared. 

In  the  morning  Lan  went  back  to 
the  canon  and  found,  as  expected,  that 
the  Bear  had  returned  and  killed  the 
remaining  sheep. 

The  hunter  piled  the  rest  of  the 
carcasses  in  an  open  place,  lightly 
sprinkled  the  Grizzly's  trail  with  some 
very  dry  brush,  then  making  a  plat- 
form some  fifteen  feet  from  the  ground 
in  a  tree,  he  rolled  up  in  his  blanket 
there  and  slept. 

An  old  Bear  will  rarely  visit  a  place 
three  nights  in  succession ;  a  cunning 


Bear  will  avoid  a  trail  that  has  been 
changed  overnight;  a  skilful  Bear 
goes  in  absolute  silence.  But  Jack 
was  neither  old,  cunning,  nor  skilful. 
He  came  for  the  fourth  time  to  the 
canon  of  the  sheep.  He  followed  his 
old  trail  straight  to  the  delicious  mut- 
ton bones.  He  found  the  human  trail, 
but  there  was  something  about  it  that 
rather  attracted  him.  He  strode  along 
on  the  dry  boughs.  "Crack !  "went  one ; 
"crack-crack  !Mwentanother;andKell- 
yan  arose  on  the  platform  and  strained 
his  eyes  in  the  gloom  till  a  dark  form 
moved  into  the  opening  by  the  bones 
of  the  sheep.  The  hunter's  rifle 
cracked,  the  Bear  snorted,  wheeled 
into  the  bushes,  and,  crashing  away, 
was  gone. 


IX 

AN<D 


IX 


HAT  was  Jack's  baptism 
of  fire,  for  the  rifle  had 
cut  a  deep  flesh-wound 
in  his  back.  Snorting 
with  pain  and  rage,  he 
tore  through  the  bushes  and  traveled 
on  for  an  hour  or  more,  then  lay  down 
and  tried  to  lick  the  wound,  but  it  was 
beyond  reach.  He  could  only  rub  it 
against  a  log.  He  continued  his  jour- 
ney back  toward  Tallac,  and  there,  in 
a  cave  that  was  formed  of  tumbled 
rocks,  he  lay  down  to  rest.  He  was 


still  rolling  about  in  pain  when  the 
sun  was  high  and  a  strange  smell  of 
fire  came  searching  through  the  cave; 
it  increased,  and  volumes  of  blinding 
smoke  were  about  him.  It  grew  so 
choking  that  he  was  forced  to  move, 
but  it  followed  him  till  he  could  bear 
it  no  longer,  and  he  dashed  out  of 
another  of  the  ways  that  led  into  the 
cavern.  As  he  went  he  caught  a  dis- 
tant glimpse  of  a  man  throwing  wood 
on  the  fire  by  the  in-way,  and  the  whiff 
that  the  wind  brought  him  said :  "  This 
is  the  man  that  was  last  night  watch- 
ing the  sheep."  Strange  as  it  may 
seem,  the  woods  were  clear  of  smoke 
except  for  a  trifling  belt  that  floated 
in  the  trees,  and  Jack  went  striding 
away  in  peace.  He  passed  over  the 
ridge,  and  finding  berries,  ate  the  first 
meal  he  had  known  since  killing  his 
last  sheep.  He  had  wandered  on, 


gathering  fruit  and  digging  roots,  for 
an  hour  or  two,  when  the  smoke  grew 
blacker,  the  smell  of  fire  stronger.  He 
worked  away  from  it,  but  in  no  haste. 
The  birds,  deer,  and  wood  hares 
were  now  seen  scurrying  past  him. 
There  was  a  roaring  in  the  air.  It 
grew  louder,  was  coming  nearer,  and 
Jack  turned  to  stride  after  the  wood 
things  that  fled. 

The  whole  forest  was  ablaze;  the 
wind  was  rising,  and  the  flames,  gain- 
ing and  spreading,  were  flying  now  like 
wild  horses.  Jack  had  no  place  in  his 
brain  for  such  a  thing;  but  his  in- 
stinct warned  him  to  shun  that  com- 
ingroaring  that  sent  above  dark  clouds 
and  flying  fire-flakes,  and  messengers 
of  heat  below,  so  he  fled  before  it,  as 
the  forest  host  was  doing.  Fast  as  he 
went,  and  few  animals  can  outrun  a 
Grizzly  in  rough  country,  the  hot  hur- 


ricane  was  gaining  on  him.  His  sense 
of  danger  had  grown  almost  to  terror, 
terror  of  a  kind  that  he  had  never 
known  before,  for  here  there  was  no- 
thing he  could  fight;  nothing  that  he 
could  resist.  The  flames  were  all 
around  him  now;  birds  without  num-  < 
her,  hares,  and  deer  had  gone  down 
before  the  red  horror.  He  was  plung- 
ing wildly  on  through  chaparral  and 
manzanita  thickets  that  held  all  feebler 
things  until  the  fury  seized  them ;  his 
hair  was  scorching,  his  wound  was 
forgotten,  and  he  thought  only  of  es- 
cape when  the  brush  ahead  opened, 
and  the  Grizzly,  smoke-blinded,  half 
roasted,  plunged  down  a  bank  and  into 
a  small  clear  pool.  The  fur  on  his  back 
said  "hiss,"  for  it  was  sizzling-hot. 
Down  below  he  went,  gulping  the  cool 
drink,  wallowing  in  safety  and  unheat. 
Down  below  the  surface  he  crouched 


as  lorn*  as  his  lungs  would  bear  the 
strain,  then  slowly  and  cautiously  he 
raised  his  head.  The  sky  above  was 
one  great  sheet  of  flame.  Sticks  aflame 
and  flying  embers  came  in  hissing 
showers  on  the  water.  The  air  was 
hot,  but  breathable  at  times,  and  he 
filled  his  lungs  till  he  had  difficulty  in 
keeping  his  body  down  below.  Other 
creatures  there  were  in  the  pool,  some 
burnt,  some  dead,  some  small  and  in 
the  margin,  some  bigger  in  the  deeper 
places,  and  one  of  them  was  close  be- 
side him.  Oh,  he  knew  that  smell ;  fire 
—  all  Sierra's  woods  ablaze — could 
not  disguise  the  hunter  who  had  shot 
at  him  from  the  platform,  and,  though 
he  did  not  know  this,  the  hunter  really 
who  had  followed  him  all  day,  and  who 
had  tried  to  smoke  him  out  of  his  den 
and  thereby  set  the  woods  ablaze. 
Here  they  were,  face  to  face,  in  the 


deepest  end  of  the  little  pool;  they 
were  only  ten  feet  apart  and  could  not 
get  more  than  twenty  feet  apart.  The 
flames  grew  unbearable.  The  Bear 
and  man  each  took  a  hasty  breath  and 
bobbed  below  the  surface,  each  won- 
dering, according  to  his  intelligence, 
what  the  other  would  do.  In  half  a 
minute  both  came  up  again,  each  re- 
lieved to  find  the  other  no  nearer.  Each 
tried  to  keep  his  nose  and  one  eye 
above  the  water.  But  the  fire  was  rag- 
ing hot;  they  had  to  dip  under  and 
stay  as  long  as  possible. 

The  roaring  of  the  flame  was  like 
a  hurricane.  A  huge  pine  tree  came 
crashing  down  across  the  pool;  it 
barely  missed  the  man.  The  splash  of 
water  quenched  the  blazes  for  the 
most  part,  but  it  gave  off  such  a  heat 
that  he  had  to  move  —  a  little  nearer 
to  the  Bear,  Another  fell  at  an  angle, 


'K 


killing  a  coyote,  and  crossing  the  first 
tree.  They  blazed  fiercely  at  their 
junction,  and  the  Bear  edged  from  it 
a  little  nearer  the  man.  Now  they  were 
within  touching  distance.  His  useless 
gun  was  lying  in  shallow  water  near 
shore,  but  the  man  had  his  knife 
ready,  ready  for  self-defense.  1 1  was  not 
needed;  the  fiery  power  had  pro- 
claimed a  peace.  Bobbing  up  and  dodg- 
ing under,  keeping  a  nose  in  the  air 
and  an  eye  on  his  foe,  each  spent  an 
hour  or  more.  The  red  hurricane 
passed  on.  The  smoke  was  bad  in 
the  woods,  but  no  longer  intolerable, 
and  as  the  Bear  straightened  up  in 
the  pool  to  move  away  into  shallower 
water  and  off  into  the  woods,  the  man 
got  a  glimpse  of  red  blood  streaming 
from  the  shaggy  back  and  dyeing  the 
pool.  The  blood  on  the  trail  had  not 
escaped  him.  He  knew  that  this  was 


the  Bear  of  Baxter's  canon,  this  was 
the  Gringo  Bear,  but  he  did  not  know 
that  this  was  also  his  old-time  Grizzly 
Jack.  He  scrambled  out  of  the  pond, 
on  the  other  side  from  that  taken  by 
the  Grizzly,  and,  hunter  and  hunted, 
they  went  their  diverse  ways. 


X 


THE 


X 


LL  the  west  slopes  of 
Tallac  were  swept  by 
the  fire,  and  Kellyan 
moved  to  a  new  hut  on 
the  east  side,  where  still 
were  green  patches ;  so  did  the  grouse 
and  the  rabbit  and  the  coyote,  and 
so  didGrizzlyJack.  His  wound  healed 
quickly,  but  his  memory  of  the  rifle 
smell  continued;  it  was  a  dangerous 
smell,  a  new  and  horrible  kind  of  smoke 
—  one  he  was  destined  to  know  too 
well ;  one,  indeed,  he  was  soon  to  meet 


again.  Jack  was  wandering  down  the 
side  of  Tallac,  following  a  sweet  odor 
that  called  up  memories  of  former  joys 
— the  smell  of  honey,  though  he  did 
not  know  it.  A  flock  of  grouse  got 
leisurely  out  of  his  way  and  flew  to  a 
low  tree,  when  he  caught  a  whiff  of 
man  smell,  then  heard  a  crack  like 
thatwhich  had  stung  him  in  the  sheep- 
corral,  and  down  fell  one  of  the  grouse 
close  beside  him.  He  stepped  forward 
to  sniff  just  as  a  man  also  stepped  for- 
ward from  the  opposite  bushes.  They 
were  within  ten  feet  of  each  other,  and 
they  recognized  each  other,  for  the 
hunter  saw  that  it  was  a  singed  Bear 
with  a  wounded  side,  and  the  Bear 
smelt  the  rifle-smoke  and  the  leather 
clothes.  Quick  as  a  Grizzly — that  is, 
quicker  than  a  flash — the  Bear  reared. 
The  man  sprang  backward,  tripped 
and  fell,  and  the  Grizzly  was  upon 


him.  Face  to  earth  the  hunter  lay  like 
dead,  but,  ere  he  struck,  Jack  caught 
a  scent  that  made  him  pause.  He 
smelt  his  victim,  and  the  smell  was 
the  rolling  back  of  curtains  or  the  con- 
juring up  of  a  past.  The  days  in  the 
hunter's  shanty  were  forgotten,  but 
the  feelings  of  those  days  were  ready 
to  take  command  at  the  bidding  of 
the  nose.  His  nose  drank  deep  of 
a  draft  that  quelled  all  rage.  The 
Grizzly's  humor  changed.  He  turned 
and  left  the  hunter  quite  unharmed. 

Oh,  blind  one  with  the  gun!  All 
he  could  find  in  explanation  was: 
"You  kin  never  tell  what  a  Grizzly 
will  do,  but  it  ?s  good  play  to  lay  low 
when  he  has  you  cornered."  It  never 
came  into  his  mind  to  credit  the  shaggy 
brute  with  an  impulse  born  of  good, 
and  when  he  told  the  sheep-herder  of 
his  adventure  in  the  pool,  of  his  hit- 


ting  high  on  the  body  and  of  losing 
the  trail  in  the  forest  fire — "down  by 
the  shack,  when  he  turned  up  sudden 
and  had  me  I  thought  my  last  day  was 
come.  Why  he  did  nrt  swat  me,  I  don't 
know.  But  I  tell  you  this,  Pedro:  the 
B'ar  what  killed  your  sheep  on  the 
upper  pasture  and  in  the  sheep  canon 
isthesame.  No  two  B'ars  has  hind  feet 
alike  when  you  get  a  clear-cut  track, 
and  this  holds  out  even  right  along." 

"What  about  the  fifty-foot  B'ar  I 
saw  wit'  mine  own  eyes,  caramba?" 

"That  must  have  been  the  night 
you  were  working  a  kill-care  with  your 
sheep-herder's  delight.  But  don't 
worry;  I  '11  get  him  yet." 

So  Kellyan  set  out  on  a  long  hunt, 
and  put  in  practice  every  trick  he 
knew  for  the  circumventing  of  a  Bear. 
Lou  Bonamy  was  invited  to  join  with 
him,  for  his  yellow  cur  was  a  trailer. 


They  packed  four  horses  with  stuff 
and  led  them  over  the  ridge  to  the 
east  side  of  Tallac,  and  down  away 
from  Jack's  Peak,  that  Kellyan  had 
named  in  honor  of  his  Bear  cub,  to- 
ward Fallen  Leaf  Lake.  The  hunter 
believed  that  here  he  would  meet  not 
only  the  Gringo  Bear  that  he  was 
after,  but  would  also  stand  a  chance 
of  finding  others,  for  the  place  had 
escaped  the  fire. 

They  quickly  camped,  setting  up 
their  canvas  sheet  for  shade  more  than 
against  rain,  and,  after  picketing  their 
horses  in  a  meadow,  went  out  to  hunt. 
By  circling  around  Leaf  Lake  they 
got  a  good  idea  of  the  wild  popula- 
tion :  plenty  of  deer,  some  Black  Bear, 
and  one  or  two  Cinnamon  and  Grizzly, 
and  one  track  along  the  shore  that 
Kellyan  pointed  to,  briefly  saying: 
" That's  him." 


"Ye  mean  old  Pedro's  Gringo? " 
"Yep.   That's  the  fifty-foot  Grizzly. 
I  suppose  he  stands  maybe  seven  foot 
high  in  daylight, but,'course,B'ars  pulls 
out  lorn*  at  night/' 

So  the  yellow  cur  was  put  on  the 
track,  and  led  away  with  funny  little 
yelps,  while  the  two  hunters  came 
stumbling  along  behind  him  as  fast  as 
they  could,  calling,  at  times,  to  the  dog 
not  to  go  so  fast,  and  thus  making  a 
good  deal  of  noise,  which  Gringo  Jack 
heard  a  mile  away  as  he  ambled  along 
the  mountain-side  above  them.  He 
was  following  his  nose  to  many  good 
and  eatable  things,  and  therefore  going 
up-wind.  This  noise  behind  was  so 
peculiar  that  he  wanted  to  smell  it, 
and  to  do  that  he  swung  along  back 
over  the  clamor,  then  descended  to 
the  down-wind  side,  and  thus  he  came 
on  the  trail  of  the  hunters  and  their  dog. 


His  nose  informed  him  at  once. 
Here  was  the  hunter  he  once  felt 
kindly  toward  and  two  other  smells  of 
far-back — both  hateful ;  all  three  were 
now  the  smell-marks  of  foes,  and  a 
rumbling  "woof"  was  the  expressive 
sound  that  came  from  his  throat. 

That  dog-smell  in  particular  roused 
him,  though  it  is  very  sure  he  had  for- 
gotten all  about  the  dog,  and  Gringo's 
feet  went  swiftly  and  silently,  yes,  with 
marvelous  silence,  along  the  tracks  of 
the  enemy. 

On  rough,  rocky  ground  a  dog  is 
scarcely  quicker  than  a  Bear,  and  since 
the  dog  was  constantly  held  back  by 
the  hunters  the  Bear  had  no  difficulty 
in  overtaking  them.  Only  a  hundred 
yards  or  so  behind  he  continued,  partly 
in  curiosity,  pursuing  the  dog  that  was 
pursuing  him,  till  a  shift  of  the  wind 
brought  the  dog  a  smell-call  from  the 


Bear  behind.  He  wheeled — ofcouioe 
you  never  follow  trail  smell  when  you 
can  find  body  smell  —  and  came  gallop- 
ing back  with  a  different  yapping  and 
a  bristling  in  his  mane. 

"  Don't  understand  that/'  whispered 
Bonamy. 

"  It's  B'ar,  all  right/'  was  the  an- 
swer; and  the  dog,  bounding  high, 
went  straight  toward  the  foe. 

Jack  heard  him  coming,  smelt  him 
coming,  and  at  length  saw  him  coming; 
but  it  was  the  smell  that  roused  him  — 
the  full  scent  of  the  bully  of  his  youth. 
The  anger  of  those  days  came  on  him, 
and  cunning  enough  to  make  him  lurk 
in  ambush:  he  backed  to  one  side  of 
the  trail  where  it  passed  under  a  root, 
and,  as  the  little  yellow  tyrant  came, 
Jack  hit  him  once,  hit  him  as  he  had 
done  some  years  before,  but  now  with 
the  power  of  a  grown  Grizzly.  No 


yelp  escaped  the  dog,  no  second  blow 
was  needed.  The  hunters  searched 
in  silence  for  half  an  hour  before  they 
found  the  place  and  learned  the  tale 
from  many  silent  tongues. 

"  I  '11  get  even  with  him,"  muttered 
Bonamy,  for  he  loved  that  contempt- 
ible little  yap-cur. 

" That's  Pedro's  Gringo,  all  right. 
He's  sure  cunning  to  run  his  own  back 
track.  But  we  '11  fix  him  yet,"  and 
they  vowed  to  kill  that  Bear  or  "get 
done  up"  themselves. 

Without  a  dog,  they  must  make  a  new 
plan  of  hunting.  They  picked  out  two 
or  three  good  places  for  pen-traps, 
where  trees  stood  in  pairs  to  make 
the  pillars  of  the  den.  Then  Kellyan 
returned  to  camp  for  the  ax  while 
Bonamy  prepared  the  ground. 

As  Kellyan  came  near  their  open 
camping-place,  he  stopped  from  habit 


and  peeped  ahead  for  a  minute.  He 
was  about  to  go  down  when  a  move- 
ment  caught  his  eye.  There,  on  his 
haunches,  sat  a  Grizzly,  looking  down 

I  on  the  camp.  The  singed  brown  of 
/  /  ^  his  head  and  neck,  and  the  white  spot 

\  ,  on  each  side  of  his  back,  left  no  doubt 
f  .  f^J^  that  Kellyan  and  Pedro's  Gringo  were 
again  face  to  face.  It  was  a  long  shot, 
but  the  rifle  went  up,  and  as  he  was 
\  about  to  fire,  the  Bear  suddenly  bent 

/  kis  head  down,  and  lifting  his  hind 
paw,  began  to  lick  at  a  little  cut.  This 
brought  the  head  and  chest  nearly  in 
line  with  Kellyan  —  a  sure  shot;  so 
sure  that  he  fired  hastily.  He  missed 
the  head  and  the  shoulder,  but,  strange 
to  say,  he  hit  the  Bear  in  the  mouth 
and  in  the  hind  toe,  carrying  away  one 
of  his  teeth  and  the  side  of  one  toe. 
The  Grizzly  sprang  up  with  a  snort, 
and  came  tearing  down  the  hill  toward 


the  hunter.  Kellyan  climbed  a  tree  and 
got  ready,  but  the  camp  lay  just  be- 
tween them,  and  the  Bear  charged  on 
that  instead.  One  sweep  of  his  paw 
and  the  canvas  tent  was  down  and  torn. 
Whack !  and  tins  went  flying  this  way. 
Whisk!  and  flour-sacks  went  that. 
Rip!  and  the  flour  went  off  like 
smoke.  Slap  —  crack !  and  a  boxful  of 
odds  and  ends  was  scattered  into  the 
fire.  Whack!  and  a  bagful  of  cartridges 
was  tumbled  after  it.  Whang!  and  the 
water-pail  was  crushed.  Pat-pat-pat! 
and  all  the  cups  were  in  useless  bits. 
Kellyan,  safe  up  the  tree,  got  no  fair 
view  to  shoot — could  only  wait  till  the 
storm-center  cleared  a  little.  The  Bear 
chanced  on  a  bottle  of  something  with 
a  cork  loosely  in  it.  He  seized  it 
adroitly  in  his  paws,  twisted  out  the 
cork,  and  held  the  bottle  up  to  his  mouth 
with  a  comical  dexterity  that  told  of 


if/ 


previous  experience.  But,  whatever  it 
was,  it  did  not  please  the  invader;  he 
spat  and  spilled  it  out,  and  f  lung  the  bot- 
tle down  as  Kellyan  gazed,  astonished. 
A  remarkable  "  crack !  crack !  crack ! rr 
from  the  fire  was  heard  now,  and  the 
cartridges  began  to  go  off  in  ones,  twos, 
fours,  and  numbers  unknown.  Gringo 
whirled  about;  he  had  smashed  every- 
thing in  view.  He  did  not  like  that 
Fourth  of  July  sound,  so,  springing  to  a 
bank,  he  went  bumping  and  heaving 
down  to  the  meadow  and  had  just  stam- 
peded the  horses  when,  for  the  first 
time,  Gringo  exposed  himself  to  the 
hunter's  aim.  His  flank  was  grazed 
by  another  leaden  stinger,  and  Gringo, 
wheeling,  went  off  into  the  woods. 

The  hunters  were  badly  defeated. 
It  was  fully  a  week  before  they  had 
repaired  all  the  damage  done  by  their 
shaggy  visitor  and  were  once  more  at 


Fallen  Leaf  Lake  with  a  new  store  of 
ammunition  and  provisions,  their  tent 
repaired,  and  their  camp  outfit  com- 
plete. They  said  little  about  their  vow 
to  kill  that  Bear.  Both  took  for  granted 
that  it  was  a  fight  to  the  finish.  They 
never  said,  "  //  we  get  him,"  but, 
"When  we  get  him." 


XI 
THE  F0<7?£> 


XI 


RINGO,  savage,  but  still 
discreet,  scaled  the  long 
mountain-side  when  he 
left  the  ruined  camp,  and 
afar  on  the  southern 
slope  he  sought  a  quiet  bed  in  a 
manzanita  thicket,  there  to  lie  down 
and  nurse  his  wounds  and  ease  his 
head  so  sorely  aching  with  the  jar  of 
his  shattered  tooth.  There  he  lay  for 
a  day  and  a  night,  sometimes  in  great 
pain,  and  at  no  time  inclined  to  stir. 
But,  driven  forth  by  hunger  on  the 


second  day,  he  quit  his  couch  and, 
making  for  the  nearest  ridge,  he  fol- 
lowed that  and  searched  the  wind  with 
his  nose.  The  smell  of  a  mountain 
hunter  reached  him.  Not  knowing  just 
what  to  do  he  sat  down  and  did  nothing. 
The  smell  grew  stronger,  he  heard 
sounds  of  trampling;  closer  they  came, 
then  the  brush  parted  and  a  man 
on  horseback  appeared.  The  horse 
snorted  and  tried  to  wheel,  but  the 
ridge  was  narrow  and  one  false  step 
might  have  been  serious.  The  cow- 
boy held  his  horse  in  hand  and,  al- 
though he  had  a  gun,  he  made  no  at- 
tempt to  shoot  at  the  surly  animal 
blinking  at  him  and  barring  his  path. 
He  was  an  old  mountaineer,  and  he 
now  used  a  trick  that  had  long  been 
practised  by  the  Indians,  from  whom, 
indeed,  he  learned  it.  He  began  "  mak- 
ing medicine  with  his  voice." 


"See  here  now,  B'ar,"  he  called 
aloud,  "  I  ain't  doing  nothing  to  you. 
I  ain't  got  no  grudge  ag'in'  you,  anf 
you  ain't  got  no  right  to  a  grudge  ag'in' 
me." 

"Gro-o-o-h,"  said  Gringo, deep  and 
low. 

"  Now,  I  don't  want  no  scrap  with 
you,  though  I  have  my  scrap-iron  right 
handy,  an'  what  I  want  you  to  do  is 
just  step  aside  an'  let  me  pass  that 
narrer  trail  an' go  about  my  business." 

"  Grow  -  woo  -oo-  wow,"  grumbled 
Gringo. 

"  I  'm  honest  about  it,  pard.  You 
let  me  alone,  and  I  '11  let  you  alone; 
all  I  want  is  right  of  way  for  five 
minutes." 

uGrow-grow-wow-oo-umph,"  was 
the  answer. 

u  Ye  see,  thar  's  no  way  round  an' 
on'y  one  way  through,  an'  you  happen 


to  be  settin'  in  it.  I  got  to  take  it,  for 
I  can't  turn  back.  Come,  now,  is  it  a 
bargain  —  hands  off  and  no  scrap?" 

It  is  very  sure  that  Gringo  could 
see  in  this  nothing  but  a  human  mak- 
ing queer,  unmenacing,  monotonous 
sounds,  so  giving  a  final  "Gr-u-ph," 
the  Bear  blinked  his  eyes,  rose  to  his 
feet  and  strode  down  the  bank,  and 
the  cowboy  forced  his  unwilling  horse 
to  and  past  the  place. 

"  Wall,  wall/'  he  chuckled,  "  I  never 
knowed  it  to  fail.  Thar  's  whar  most 
B'ars  is  alike." 

If  Gringo  had  been  able  to  think 
clearly,  he  might  have  said:  "This 
surely  is  a  new  kind  of  man." 


XII 


SWI^L  AN<D  POOL 
GROWING  FLOO<D 


•1  •• 


XII 


RINGO  wandered  on 
with  nose  alert,  passing 
countless  odors  of  ber- 
ries, roots,  grouse,  deer, 
till  a  new  and  pleasing 
smell  came  with  especial  force. 

It  was  not  sheep,  or  game,  or  a  dead 
thing.  It  was  a  smell  of  living  meat. 
He  followed  the  guide  to  a  little  mea- 
dow, and  there  he  found  it.  There 
were  five  of  them,  red,  or  red  and 
white — great  things  as  big  as  himself ; 
but  he  had  no  fear  of  them.  The 


hunter  instinct  came  on  him,  and  the 
hunter's  audacity  and  love  of  achieve- 
ment. He  sneaked  toward  them  up- 
wind in  order  that  he  might  still  smell 
them,  and  it  also  kept  them  from  smell- 
ing him.  He  reached  the  edge  of  the 
wood.  Here  he  must  stop  or  be  seen. 
There  was  a  watering-place  close  by. 
He  silently  drank,  then  lay  down  in  a 
thicket  where  he  could  watch.  An 
hour  passed  thus.  The  sun  went  down 
and  the  cattle  arose  to  graze.  One  of 
them,  a  small  one,  wandered  nearer, 
then,  acting  suddenly  with  purpose, 
walked  to  the  water-hole.  Gringo 
watched  his  chance,  and  as  she  floun- 
dered in  the  mud  and  stooped  he  reared 
and  struck  with  all  his  force.  Square 
at  her  skull  he  aimed,  and  the  blow 
went  straight.  But  Gringo  knew,  no- 
thing of  horns.  Theyoung,  sharp  horn, 
upcurling,  hit  his  foot  and  was  broken 


off  ;  the  blow  lost  half  its  power.  The 
beef  went  down,  but  Gringo  had  to 
follow  up  the  blow,  then  raged  and  tore 
in  anger  for  his  wounded  paw.  The 
other  cattle  fled  from  the  scene.  The 
Grizzly  took  the  heifer  in  his  jaws, 
then  climbed  the  hill  to  his  lair,  and 
with  this  store  of  food  he  again  lay 
down  to  nurse  his  wounds.  Though 
painful,  they  were  not  serious,  and 
within  a  week  or  so  Grizzly  Jack  was 
as  well  as  ever  and  roaming  the  woods 
about  Fallen  Leaf  Lake  and  farther 
south  and  east,  for  he  was  extending 
his  range  as  he  grew  —  the  king  was 
coming  to  his  kingdom.  In  time  he 
met  others  of  his  kind  and  matched 
his  strength  with  theirs.  Sometimes 
he  won  and  sometimes  lost,  but  he 
kept  on  growing  as  the  months  went 
by,  growing  and  learning  and  adding 
to  his  power. 


Kellyan  had  kept  track  of  him  and 
knew  at  least  the  main  facts  of  his 
life,  because  he  had  one  or  two  marks 
that  always  served  to  distinguish  him. 
A  study  of  the  tracks  had  told  of  the 
round  wound  in  the  front  foot  and  the 
wound  in  the  hind  foot.  But  there  was 
another:  the  hunter  had  picked  up 
the  splinters  of  bone  at  the  camp  where 
he  had  fired  at  the  Bear,  and,  after 
long  doubt,  he  guessed  that  he  had 
broken  a  tusk.  He  hesitated  to  tell 
the  story  of  hitting  a  tooth  and  hind 
toe  at  the  same  shot  till,  later,  he  had 
clearer  proof  of  its  truth. 

No  two  animals  are  alike.  Kinds 
which  herd  have  more  sameness  than 
those  that  do  not,  and  the  Grizzly, 
being  a  solitary  kind,  shows  great  in- 
dividuality.  Most  Grizzlies  mark  their 
length  on  the  trees  by  rubbing  their 
backs,  and  some  will  turn  on  the  tree 


and  claw  it  with  their  fore  paws ;  others 
hug  the  tree  with  fore  paws  and  rake  it 
with  their  hind  claws.  Gringo's  pecu- 
liarity of  marking  was  to  rub  first,  then 
turn  and  tear  the  trunk  with  his  teeth. 

It  was  on  examining  one  of  the  Bear 
trees  one  day  that  Kellyan  discovered 
the  facts.  He  had  been  tracking  the 
Bear  all  morning,  had  a  fine  set  of 
tracks  in  the  dusty  trail,  and  thus 
learned  that  the  rifle-wound  was  a  toe- 
shot  in  the  hind  foot,  but  his  fore  foot 
of  the  same  side  had  a  large  round 
wound,  the  one  really  made  by  the 
cow's  horn.  When  he  came  to  the 
Bear  tree  where  Gringo  had  carved 
his  initials,  the  marks  were  clearly 
made  by  the  Bear's  teeth,  and  one  of 
the  upper  tusks  was  broken  off,  so  the 
evidence  of  identity  was  complete. 

"  It 's  the  same  old  B'ar,"  said  Lan 
to  his  pard. 


They  failed  to  get  sight  of  him  in 
all  this  time,  so  the  partners  set  to 
work  at  a  series  of  Bear-traps.  These 
are  made  of  heavy  logs  and  have  a 
sliding  door  of  hewn  planks.  The  bait 
is  on  a  trigger  at  the  far  end;  a  tug 
on  this  lets  the  door  drop.  It  was  a 
week's  hard  work  to  make  four  of 
these  traps.  They  did  not  set  them  at 
once,  for  no  Bear  will  go  near  a  thing 
so  suspiciously  new-looking.  Some 
Bears  will  not  approach  one  till  it  is 
weather-beaten  and  gray.  But  they  re- 
moved all  chips  and  covered  the  newly 
cut  wood  with  mud,  then  rubbed  the 
inside  with  stale  meat,  and  hung  a  lump 
of  ancient  venison  on  the  trigger  of 
each  trap. 

They  did  not  go  around  for  three 
days,  knowing  that  the  human  smell 
must  first  be  dissipated,  and  then  they 
found  but  one  trap  sprung — the  door 


down.  Bonamy  became  greatly  ex- 
cited, for  they  had  crossed  the  Griz- 
zly's track  close  by.  But  Kellyan  had 
been  studying  the  dust  and  suddenly 
laughed  aloud. 

"  Look  at  that," — he  pointed  to  a 
thing  like  a  Bear-track,  but  scarcely 
two  inches  long.  " There's  the  B'ar 
we'll  find  in  that;  that's  a  bushy- 
tailed  B'ar,"  and  Bonamy  joined  in 
the  laugh  when  he  realized  that  the 
victim  in  the  big  trap  was  nothing  but 
a  little  skunk. 

"  Next  time  we  '11  set  the  bait  higher 
and  not  set  the  trigger  so  fine." 

They  rubbed  their  boots  with  stale 
meat  when  they  went  the  rounds, 
then  left  the  traps  for  a  week. 

There  are  Bears  that  eat  little  but 
roots  and  berries ;  there  are  Bears  that 
love  best  the  great  black  salmon  they 
can  hook  out  of  the  pools  when  the 


long  tl  run Tt  is  on ;  and  there  are  Bears 
that  have  a  special  fondness  for  flesh. 
These  are  rare ;  they  are  apt  to  develop 
unusual  ferocity  and  meet  an  early 
death.  Gringo  was  one  of  them,  and  he 
grew  like  the  brawny,  meat-fed  gladi- 
ators of  old — bigger,  stronger,  and 
fiercer  than  his  fruit-  and  root-fed  kin. 
In  contrast  with  this  was  his  love  of 
honey.  The  hunter  on  his  trail  learned 
that  he  never  failed  to  dig  out  any 
bees'  nest  he  could  find,  or,  finding 
none,  he  would  eat  the  little  honey- 
flowers  that  hung  like  sleigh-bells  on 
the  heather.  Kellyan  was  quick  to 
mark  the  signs.  "  Say,  Bonamy,  we  fve 
got  to  find  some  honey." 

It  is  not  easy  to  find  a  bee  tree 
without  honey  to  fill  your  bee-guides; 
so  Bonamy  rode  down  the  mountain 
to  the  nearest  camp,  the  Tampico 
sheep  camp,  and  got  not  honey  but 


some  sugar,  of  which  they  made  syrup. 
They  caught  bees  at  three  or  four 
different  places,  tagged  them  with  cot- 
ton, filled  them  with  syrup  and  let 
them  fly,  watching  till  the  cotton  tufts 
were  lost  to  view,  and  by  going  on  the 
lines  till  they  met  they  found  the  hive. 
A  piece  of  gunny-sack  filled  with  comb 
Was  put  on  each  trigger,  and  that  night, 
as  Gringo  strode  with  that  long,  untir- 
ing swing  that  eats  up  miles  like  steam- 
wheels,  his  sentinel  nose  reported  the 
delicious  smell,  the  one  that  above  the 
rest  meant  joy.  So  Gringo  Jack  fol- 
lowed fast  and  far,  for  the  place  was  a 
mile  away,  and  reaching  the  curious 
log  cavern,  he  halted  and  sniffed. 
There  were  hunters'  smells;  yes,  but, 
above  all,  that  smell  of  joy.  He  walked 
around  to  be  sure,  and  knew  it  was 
inside;  then  cautiously  he  entered. 
Some  wood-mice  scurried  by.  He 


sniffed  the  bait,  licked  it,  mumbled  it, 
slobbered  it,  reveled  in  it,  tugged  to 
increase  the  flow, when  "bang!  "  went 
the  great  door  behind  and  Jack  was 
caught.  He  backed  up  with  a  rush, 
bumped  into  the  door,  and  had  a  sense, 
at  least,  of  peril.  He  turned  over  with 
an  effort  and  attacked  the  door,  but 
it  was  strong.  He  examined  the  pen; 
went  all  around  the  logs  where  their 
rounded  sides  seemed  easiest  to  tear 
at  with  his  teeth.  But  they  yielded 
nothing.  He  tried  them  all;  he  tore 
at  the  roof,  the  floor;  but  all  were 
heavy,  hard  logs,  spiked  and  pinned 
as  one. 

The  sun  came  up  as  he  raged,  and 
shone  through  the  little  cracks  of  the 
door,  and  so  he  turned  all  his  power 
on  that.  The  door  was  flat,  gave  little 
hold,  but  he  battered  with  his  paws 
and  tore  with  his  teeth  till  plank  after 


plank  gave  way.  With  a  final  crash  he 
drove  the  wreck  before  him  and  Jack 
was  free  again. 

The  men  read  the  story  as  though 
in  print;  yes,  better,  for  bits  of  plank 
can  tell  no  lies,  and  the  track  to  the 
pen  and  from  the  pen  was  the  track  of 
a  big  Bear  with  a  cut  on  the  hind  foot 
and  a  curious  round  peg-like  scar  on 
the  front  paw,  while  the  logs  inside, 
where  little  torn,  gave  proof  of  a  broken 
tooth. 

"We  had  him  that  time,  but  he 
knew  too  much  for  us.  Never  mind, 
we'll  see." 

So  they  kept  on  and  caught  him 
again,  for  honey  he  could  not  resist. 
But  the  wreckage  of  the  trap  was  all 
they  found  in  the  morning. 

Pedro's  brother  knewa  man  who  had 
trapped  Bears,  and  the  sheep-herder 
remembered  that  it  is  necessary  to 


have  the  door  quite  light-tight  rather 
than  very  strong,  so  they  battened  all 
with  tar-paper  outside.  But  Gringo 
was  learning  "pen-traps."  He  did 
not  break  the  door  that  he  did  not  see 
through,  but  he  put  one  paw  under  and 
heaved  it  up  when  he  had  finished 
the  bait.  Thus  he  baffled  them  and 
sported  with  the  traps,  till  Kellyan 
made  the  door  drop  into  a  deep  groove 
so  that  the  Bear  could  put  no  claw 
beneath  it.  But  it  was  cold  weather 
now.  There  was  deepening  snow  on  the 
Sierras.  The  Bear  sign  disappeared. 
The  hunters  knew  that  Gringo  was 
sleeping  his  winter's  sleep. 


X 


XIII 

THE  (DEEPENING  CHANNEL 


XIII 

iPRIL  was  bidding  high 
Sierra  snows  go  back 
to  Mother  Sea.  The 
California  woodwales 
screamed  in  clamorous 
joy.  They  thought  it  was  about  a  few 
acorns  left  in  storage  in  the  Live  Oak 
bark,  but  it  really  was  joy  of  being  alive. 
This  outcry  was  to  them  what  music 
is  to  the  thrush,  what  joy-bells  are 
to  us — a  great  noise  to  tell  how  glad 
they  were.  The  deer  were  bounding, 
grouse  were  booming,  rills  were  rush- 


ing — all  things  were  full  of  noisy  glad- 
ness. 

Kellyan  and  Bonamy  were  back  on 
the  Grizzly  quest.  "  Time  he  was  out 
again,  and  good  trailing  to  get  him,  with 
lots  of  snow  in  the  hollows."  They 
had  come  prepared  for  a  long  hunt. 
Honey  for  bait,  great  steel  traps  with 
crocodilian  jaws,  and  guns  there  were 
in  the  outfit.  The  pen-trap,  the  better 
for  the  aging,  was  repaired  and  re- 
baited,  and  several  Black  Bears  were 
taken.  But  Gringo,  if  about,  had 
learned  to  shun  it. 

He  was  about,  and  the  men  soon 
learned  that.  His  winter  sleep  was 
over.  They  found  the  peg-print  in  the 
snow,  but  with  it,  or  just  ahead,  was 
another,  the  tracks  of  a  smaller  Bear. 

"See  that/'  and  Kellyan  pointed  to 
the  smaller  mark.  "This  is  mating- 
time;  this  is  Gringo's  honeymoon/' 


and  he  followed  the  trail  for  a  while, 
not  expecting  to  find  them,  but  simply 
to  know  their  movements.  He  followed 
several  times  and  for  miles,  and  the 
trail  told  him  many  things.  Here  was 
the  track  of  a  third  Bear  joining.  Here 
were  marks  of  a  combat,  and  a  rival 
driven  away  was  written  there,  and 
then  the  pair  went  on.  Down  from 
the  rugged  hills  it  took  him  once  to 
where  a  love-feast  had  been  set  by  the 
bigger  Bear;  for  the  carcass  of  a  steer 
lay  half  devoured,  and  the  telltale 
ground  said  much  of  the  struggle  that 
foreran  the  feast.  As  though  to  show 
his  power,  the  Bear  had  seized  the 
steer  by  the  nose  and  held  him  for  a 
while — so  said  the  trampled  earth  for 
rods  —  struggling,  bellowing,  no  doubt, 
music  for  my  lady's  ears,  till  Gringo 
judged  it  time  to  strike  him  down  with 
paws  of  steel. 


Once  only  the  hunters  saw  the  pair 
—  a  momentary  glimpse  of  a  Bear  so 
huge  they  half  believed  Tampico's  tale, 
and  a  Bear  of  lesser  size  in  fur  that 
rolled  and  rippled  in  the  sun  with 
brown  and  silver  lights. 

"Oh,  ain't  that  just  the  beautiful- 
est  thing  that  ever  walked ! "  and  both 
the  hunters  gazed  as  she  strode  from 
view  in  the  chaparral.  It  was  only  a 
neck  of  the  thicket;  they  both  must 
reappear  in  a  minute  at  the  other  side, 
and  the  men  prepared  to  fire;  but  for 
some  incomprehensible  reason  the  two 
did  not  appear  again.  They  never  quit 
the  cover,  and  had  wandered  far  away 
before  the  hunters  knew  it,  and  were 
seen  of  them  no  more. 

But  Faco  Tampico  saw  them.  He 
was  visiting  his  brother  with  the  sheep, 
and  hunting  in  the  foot-hills  to  the  east- 
ward, in  hopes  of  getting  a  deer,  his 


small  black  eyes  fell  on  a  pair  of  Bears, 
still  love-bound,  roaming  in  the  woods. 
They  were  far  below  him.  He  was  safe, 
and  he  sent  a  ball  that  laid  the  she- 
Bear  low;  her  back  was  broken.  She 
fell  with  a  cry  of  pain  and  vainly  tried 
to  rise.  Then  Gringo  rushed  around, 
sniffed  the  wind  for  the  foe,  and  Faco 
fired  again.  The  sound  and  the  smoke- 
puff  told  Gringo  where  the  man  lay 
hid.  He  raged  up  the  cliff,  but  Faco 
climbed  a  tree,  and  Gringo  went  back 
to  his  mate.  Faco  fired  again ;  Gringo 
made  still  another  effort  to  reach  him,  /'/  ]  \ 

but  could  not   find  him  now,  so  re- 


/ 

r 
/}. 


,  r  \ 

turned  to  his  "Silver-brown."  .'         \\ 

Whether  it  was  chance  or  choice 
can  never  be  known,  but  when  Faco 
fired  once  more,  Gringo  Jack  was  be-          \y         ; 
tween,  and  the  ball  struck  him.    It  was     •     ^^^ 
the   last   in    Face's   pouch,    and   the 
Grizzly,  charging  as  before,  found  not 


a  trace  of  the  foe.  He  was  gone  —  had 
swung  across  a  place  no  Bear  could 
cross  and  soon  was  a  mile  away.  The 
big  Bear  limped  back  to  his  mate,  but 
she  no  longer  responded  to  his  touch. 
He  watched  about  for  a  time,  but  no 
one  came.  The  silvery  hide  was  never 
touched  by  man,  and  when  the  sem- 
blance of  his  mate  was  gone,  Gringo 
quit  the  place. 

The  world  was  full  of  hunters,  traps, 
and  guns.  He  turned  toward  the  lower 
hills  where  the  sheep  grazed,  where 
once  he  had  raided  Pedro's  flocks, 
limping  along,  for  now  he  had  another 
flesh-wound.  He  found  the  scent  of 
the  foe  that  killed  his  "  Silver-brown," 
and  would  have  followed,  but  it  ceased 
at  a  place  where  a  horse-track  joined. 
Yet  he  found  it  again  that  night,  mixed 
with  the  sheep  smell  so  familiar  once. 
He  followed  this,  sore  and  savage.  It 


led  him  to  a  settler's  flimsy  shack,  the 
house  of  Tampico's  parents,  and  as 
the  big  Bear  reached  it  two  human 
beings  scrambled  out  of  the  rear  door. 

u  My  husband/'  shrieked  the  wo- 
man, "  pray!  Let  us  pray  to  the  saints 
for  help! " 

" Where  is  my  pistol?"  cried  the 
husband. 

11  Trust  in  the  saints/'  said  the 
frightened  woman. 

"Yes,  if  I  had  a  cannon,  or  if  this 
was  a  cat;  but  with  only  a  pepper-box 
pistol  to  meet  a  Bear  mountain  it  is 
better  to  trust  to  a  tree/' and  oldTam- 
pico  scrambled  up  a  pine. 

The  Grizzly  looked  into  the  shack, 
then  passed  to  the  pig-pen,  killed  the 
largest  there,  for  this  was  a  new  kind 
of  meat,  and  carrying  it  off,  he  made 
his  evening  meal. 

He  came  again  and  again  to  that 


Vv*\ 

pig-pen.  He  found  his  food  there  till 
his  wound  was  healed.  Once  he  met 
with  a  spring-gun,  but  it  was  set  too 
high.  Six  feet  up,  the  sheep-folk 
judged,  would  be  just  about  right  for 
such  a  Bear;  the  charge  went  over  his 
head,  and  so  he  passed  unharmed — a 
clear  proof  that  he  was  a  devil.  He 
was  learning  this:  the  human  smell 
in  any  form  is  a  smell  of  danger.  He 
quit  the  little  valley  of  the  shack,  wan- 
dering downward  toward  the  plains. 
He  passed  a  house  one  night,  and 
walking  up,  he  discovered  a  hollow 
thing  with  a  delicious  smell.  It  was  a 
ten-gallon  keg  that  had  been  used  for 
sugar,  some  of  which  was  still  in  the 
bottom,  and  thrusting  in  his  huge  head, 
the  keg-rim,  bristling  with  nails,  stuck 
to  him.  He  raged  about,  clawing  at  it 
wildly  and  roaring  in  it  until  a  charge 
of  shot  from  the  upper  windows  stirred 


him  to  such  effort  that  the  keg  was 
smashed  to  bits  and  his  blinders  re- 
moved. 

Thus  the  idea  was  slowly  borne  in 
on  him:  going  near  a  man-den  is  sureto 
bring  trouble.  Thenceforth  he  sought 
his  prey  in  the  woods  or  on  the  plains. 
He  one  day  found  the  man  scent  that 
enraged  him  the  day  he  lost  his  "  Silver- 
brown."  He  took  the  trail,  and  pass- 
ing in  silence  incredible  for  such  a 
bulk,  he  threaded  chaparral  and  man- 
zanita  on  and  down  through  tule-beds 
till  the  level  plain  was  reached.  The 
scent  led  on,  was  fresher  now.  Far  out 
were  white  specks — moving  things. 
They  meant  nothing  to  Gringo,  for 
he  had  never  smelt  wild  geese,  had 
scarcely  seen  them,  but  the  trail  he 
was  hunting  went  on.  He  swiftly  fol- 
lowed till  the  tule  ahead  rustled  gently, 
and  the  scent  was  body  scent  A  pon- 


derous  rush,  a  single  blow — and  the 
goose-hunt  was  ended  ere  well  begun, 
and  Face's  sheep  became  the  brother's 
heritage. 


XIV 

THE  CATARACT 


XIV 


UST  as  fads  will  for  a 
time  sway  human  life,  so 
crazes  may  run  through 
all  animals  of  a  given 
kind.  This  was  the  year 
when  a  beef-eating  craze  seemed  to 
possess  every  able-bodied  Grizzly  of 
the  Sierras.  They  had  long  been 
known  as  a  root-eating,  berry-picking, 
inoffensive  race  when  let  alone,  but 
now  they  seemed  to  descend  on  the 
cattle-range  in  a  body  and  make  their 
diet  wholly  of  flesh. 


One  cattle  outfit  after  another  was 
attacked,  and  the  whole  country  seemed 
divided  up  among  Bears  of  incred- 
ible size,  cunning,  and  destructiveness. 
The  cattlemen  offered  bounties — good 
bounties,  growing  bounties,  very  large 
bounties  at  last — but  still  the  Bears 
kept  on.  Very  few  were  killed,  and  it 
became  a  kind  of  rude  jest  to  call  each 
section  of  the  range,  not  by  the  cattle 
brand,  but  by  the  Grizzly  that  was 
quartered  on  its  stock. 

Wonderful  tales  were  told  of  these 
various  Bears  of  the  new  breed.  The 
swiftest  was  Reelfoot,  the  Placerville 
cattle-killer  that  could  charge  from  a 
thicket  thirty  yards  away  and  certainly 
catch  a  steer  before  it  could  turn  and 
run,  and  that  could  even  catch  ponies 
in  the  open  when  they  were  poor. 
The  most  cunning  of  all  was  Brin, 
the  Mokelumne  Grizzly  that  killed  by 


preference  blooded  stock,  would  pick 

out  a   Merino  ram  or  a  white-faced 

Hereford   from    among   fifty   grades; 

that   killed  a  new  beef  every  night; 

that  never  again  returned  to  it,  or  gave    *j+* 

the  chance  for  traps  or  poisoning.        +**\?         ^ 

The  Pegtrack  Grizzly  of  Feather  V;  *--  + 
River  was  rarely  seen  by  any.  He 
was  enveloped  in  mysterious  terror. 
He  moved  and  killed  by  night.  Pigs 
were  his  favorite  food,  and  he  had  also 
killed  a  number  of  men. 

But  Pedro's  Grizzly  was  the  most 
marvelous.  "  Hassayampa,"  as  the 
sheep-herder  was  dubbed,  came  one 
night  to  Kellyan's  hut. 

"I  tell  you  he's  still  dere.  He 
has  keel  me  a  t'ousand  sheep.  You 
telled  me  you  keel  heem ;  you  haff  not. 
He  is  beegare  as  dat  tree.  He  eat 
only  sheep  —  much  sheep.  I  tell  you 
he  ees  Gringo  devil — he  ees  devil 


Bear.  I  haff  three  cows,  two  fat,  one 
theen.  He  catch  and  keel  de  fat;  de 
lean  run  off.  He  roll  een  dust  —  make 
great  dust.  Cow  come  for  see  what 
make  dust;  he  catch  her  anT  keel. 
My  fader  got  bees.  De  devil  Bear 
chaw  pine;  I  know  he  by  hees  broke 
toof.  He  gum  hees  face  and  nose 
wit*  pine  gum  so  bees  no  sting,  then 
eat  all  bees.  He  devil  all  time.  He 
get  much  rotten  manzanita  and  eat 
till  drunk — locoed — then  go  crazy 
and  keel  sheep  just  for  fun.  He  get 
beeg  bull  by  nose  and  drag  like  rat 
for  fun.  He  keel  cow,  sheep,  and 
keel  Faco,  too,  for  fun.  He  devil. 
You  promise  me  you  keel  heem ;  you 
nevaire  keel." 

This  is  a  condensation  of  Pedro's 
excited  account. 

And  there  was  yet  one  more  —  the 
big  Bear  that  owned  the  range  from 


'/J 

the  Stanislaus  to  the  Merced,  the 
"  Monarch  of  the  Range"  he  had 
been  styled.  He  was  believed — yes, 
known  to  be — the  biggest  Bear  alive, 
a  creature  of  supernatural  intelligence. 
He  killed  cows  for  food,  and  scat- 
tered sheep  or  conquered  bulls  for 
pleasure.  It  was  even  said  that  the 
appearance  of  an  unusually  big  bull 
anywhere  was  a  guaranty  that  Mon- 
arch would  be  there  for  the  joy  of  com- 
bat with  a  worthy  foe.  A  destroyer  of 
cattle,  sheep,  pigs,  and  horses,  and 
yet  a  creature  known  only  by  his  track. 
He  was  never  seen,  and  his  nightly 
raids  seemed  planned  with  consum- 
mate skill  to  avoid  all  kinds  of  snares. 
The  cattlemen  clubbed  together  and 
offered  an  enormous  bounty  for  every 
Grizzly  killed  in  the  range.  Bear- 
trappers  came  and  caught  some  Bears, 
Brown  and  Cinnamon,  but  the  cattle- 


killing  went  on.  They  set  out  better 
traps  of  massive  steel  and  iron  bars, 
and  at  length  they  caught  a  killer,  the 
Mokelumne  Grizzly;  yes,  and  read  in 
the  dust  how  he  had  come  at  last  and 
made  the  fateful  step;  but  steel  will 
break  and  iron  will  bend.  The  great 
Bear-trail  was  there  to  tell  the  tale: 
for  a  while  he  had  raged  and  chafed 
at  the  hard  black  reptile  biting  into 
his  paw;  then,  seeking  a  boulder,  he 
had  released  the  paw  by  smashing  the 
trap  to  pieces  on  it.  Thenceforth  each 
year  he  grew  more  cunning,  huge,  and 
destructive. 

Kellyan  and  Bonamy  came  down 
from  the  mountains  now,  tempted  by 
the  offered  rewards.  They  saw  the 
huge  tracks;  they  learned  that  cattle 
were  not  killed  in  all  places  at  once. 
They  studied  and  hunted.  They  got 
at  length  in  the  dust  the  full  impres- 


sions  of  the  feet  of  the  various  mon- 
sters in  regions  wide  apart,  and  they 
saw  that  all  the  cattle  were  killed  in 
the  same  way — their  muzzles  torn, 
their  necks  broken ;  and  last,  the  marks 
on  the  trees  where  the  Bears  had 
reared  and  rubbed,  then  scored  them 
with  a  broken  tusk,  the  same  all 
through  the  wide  range;  and  Kellyan 
told  them  with  calm  certainty:  "  Pe- 
dro's Gringo, Old  Pegtrack,the  Placer- 
ville  Grizzly,  and  the  Monarch  of  the 
Range  are  one  and  the  same  '•Bear.11 

The  little  man  from  the  mountains 
and  the  big  man  from  the  hills  set  about 
the  task  of  hunting  him  down  with  an 
intensity  of  purpose  which,  like  the 
river  that  is  dammed,  grew  more  fierce 
from  being  balked. 

All  manner  of  traps  had  failed  for 
him.  Steel  traps  he  could  smash,  no 
log  trap  was  strong  enough  to  hold 


\ 


this  furry  elephant ;  he  would  not  come 
to  a  bait;  he  never  fed  twice  from  the 
same  kill. 

Two  reckless  boys  once  trailed  him 
to  a  rocky  glen.  The  horses  would 
not  enter;  the  boys  went  in  afoot,  and 
were  never  seen  again.  The  Mexi- 
cans held  him  in  superstitious  terror, 
believing  that  he  could  not  be  killed; 
and  he  passed  another  year  in  the 
cattle-land,  known  and  feared  now  as 
the  "  Monarch  of  the  Range, "  killing 
in  the  open  by  night,  and  retiring  by 
day  to  his  fastness  in  the  near  hills, 
where  horsemen  could  not  follow. 

Bonamy  had  been  called  away;  but 
all  that  summer,  and  winter,  too, — for 
the  Grizzly  no  longer  "  denned  up," — 
Kellyan  rode  and  rode,  each  time  too 
late  or  too  soon  to  meet  the  Monarch. 
He  was  almost  giving  up,  not  in  despair, 
but  for  lack  of  means,  when  a  message 


came  from  a  rich  man,  a  city  journalist, 
offering  to  multiply  the  reward  by  ten 
if,  instead  of  killing  the  Monarch,  he 
would  bring  him  in  alive. 

Kellyan  sent  for  his  old  partner,  and 
when  word  came  that  the  previous 
night  three  cows  were  killed  in  the 
familiar  way  near  the  Bell-Dash  pas- 
ture, they  spared  neither  horse  nor 
man  to  reach  the  spot.  A  ten-hour 
ride  by  night  meant  worn-out  horses, 
but  the  men  were  iron,  and  new  horses 
with  scarcely  a  minute's  delay  were 
brought  them.  Here  were  the  newly 
killed  beeves,  there  the  mighty  foot- 
prints with  the  scars  that  spelled  his 
name.  No  hound  could  have  tracked 
him  better  than  Kellyan  did.  Five 
miles  away  from  the  foot  of  the  hills 
was  an  impenetrable  thicket  of  cha- 
parral. The  great  tracks  went  in,  did 
not  come  out,  so  Bonamy  sat  sentinel 


while  Kellyan  rode  back  with  the 
news.  " Saddle  up  the  best  we  got!" 
was  the  order.  Rifles  were  taken  down 
and  cartridge-belts  being  swung  when 
Kellyan  called  a  halt. 

"Say,  boys,  we've  got  him  safe 
enough.  He  won't  try  to  leave  the 
chaparral  till  night.  If  we  shoot  him 
we  get  the  cattlemen's  bounty;  if  we 
take  him  alive — an'  it  's  easy  in  the 
open — we  get  the  newspaper  bounty, 
ten  times  as  big.  Let 's  leave  all  guns 
behind;  lariats  are  enough." 

"Why  not  have  the  guns  along  to 
be  handy?" 

"  'Cause  I  know  the  crowd  too  well ; 
they  could  n't  resist  the  chance  to  let 
him  have  it;  so  no  guns  at  all.  It  's 
ten  to  one  on  the  riata." 

Nevertheless  three  of  them  brought 
their  heavy  revolvers.  Seven  gallant  ri- 
ders on  seven  fine  horses,  they  rode  out 


that  day  to  meet  the  Monarch  of  the 
Range.  He  was  still  in  the  thicket, 
for  it  was  yet  morning.  They  threw 
stones  in  and  shouted  to  drive  him  out, 
without  effect,  till  the  noon  breeze  of 
the  plains  arose — the  down-current 
of  air  from  the  hills.  Then  they  fired 
the  grass  in  several  places,  and  it  sent 
a  rolling  sheet  of  flame  and  smoke  into 
the  thicket.  There  was  a  crackling 
louder  than  the  fire,  a  smashing  of 
brush,  and  from  the  farther  side  out 
hurled  the  Monarch  Bear,  the  Gringo, 
Grizzly  Jack.  Horsemen  were  all 
about  him  now,  armed  not  with  guns 
but  with  the  rawhide  snakes  whose 
loops  in  air  spell  bonds  or  death. 
The  men  were  calm,  but  the  horses 
were  snorting  and  plunging  in  fear. 
This  way  and  that  the  Grizzly  looked 
up  at  the  horsemen  —  a  little  bit; 
scarcely  up  at  the  horses;  then  turn- 


ing  without  haste,  he  strode  toward 
the  friendly  hills, 

"Look  out,  now,  Bill!  Manuel!  It's 
up  to  you." 

Oh,  noble  horses,  nervy  men!  oh, 
grand  old  Grizzly,  how  I  see  you 
now!  Cattle-keepers  and  cattle-killer 
face  to  face! 

Three  riders  of  the  range  that 
horse  had  never  thrown  were  sailing, 
swooping,  like  falcons;  their  lariats 
swung,  sang  —  sang  higher  —  and 
Monarch, much  perplexed, but  scarce- 
ly angered  yet,  rose  to  his  hind  legs, 
then  from  his  towering  height  looked 
down  on  horse  and  man.  If,  as  they 
say,  the  vanquished  prowess  goes 
into  the  victor,  then  surely  in  that 
mighty  chest,  those  arms  like  necks 
of  bulls,  was  the  power  of  the  thou- 
sand cattle  he  had  downed  in  fight. 

"Caramba!  what  a  Bear!  Pedro 
was  not  so  far  astray." 


fa 

"Sing — sing — sing!"  the  lariats 
flew.  "  Swish — pat ! "  one,  two,  three, 
they  fell.  These  were  not  men  to  miss. 
Three  ropes,  three  horses,  leaping 
away  to  bear  on  the  great  beast's  neck. 
But  swifter  than  thought  the  supple 
paws  went  up.  The  ropes  were  slipped, 
and  the  spurred  cow-ponies,  ready  for 
the  shock,  went,  shockless,  bounding' 
— loose  ropes  trailing  afar. 

"Hi  —  Hal!  Ho— Lan!  Head 
him!"  as  the  Grizzly,  liking  not  the 
unequal  fight,  made  for  the  hills.  But 
a  deft  Mexican  in  silver  gear  sent  his 
hide  riata  whistling,  then  haunched 
his  horse  as  the  certain  coil  sank  in 
the  Grizzly's  hock,  and  checked  the 
Monarch  with  a  heavy  jar.  Uttering 
one  great  snort  of  rage,  he  turned;  his 
huge  jaws  crossed  the  rope,  back 
nearly  to  his  ears  it  went,  and  he 
ground  it  as  a  dog  might  grind  a  twig, 
so  the  straining  pony  bounded  free. 


Round  and  round  him  now  the  riders 
swooped,  waiting  their  chance.  More 
than  once  his  neck  was  caught,  but  he 
slipped  the  noose  as  though  it  were 
all  play.  Again  he  was  caught  by  a 
foot  and  wrenched,  almost  thrown,  by 
the  weight  of  two  strong  steeds,  and 
now  he  foamed  in  rage.  Memories  of 
olden  days,  or  more  likely  the  habit  of 
olden  days,  came  on  him — days  when 
he  learned  to  strike  the  yelping  pack 
that  dodged  his  blows.  He  was  far 
from  the  burnt  thicket,  but  a  single 
bush  was  near,  and  setting  his  broad 
back  to  that,  he  waited  for  the  circling 
foe.  Nearer  and  nearer  they  urged 
the  frightened  steeds,  and  Monarch 
watched — -waited,  as  of  old,  for  the 
dogs,  till  they  were  almost  touching 
each  other,  then  he  sprang  like  an 
avalanche  of  rock.  What  can  elude  a 
Grizzly's  dash?  The  earth  shivered 


as  he  launched  himself,  and  trembled 
when  he  struck.  Three  men,  three 
horses,  in  each  other's  way.  The  dust 
was  thick ;  they  only  knew  he  struck — 
struck — struck!  The  horses  never 
rose. 

"  Santa  Maria ! "  came  a  cry  of  death, 
and  hovering  riders  dashed  to  draw 
the  Bear  away.  Three  horses  dead, 
one  man  dead,  one  nearly  so,  and  only 
one  escaped. 

" Crack!  crack!  crack!"  went  the 
pistols  now  as  the  Bear  went  rocking 
his  huge  form  in  rapid  charge  for  the 
friendly  hills;  and  the  four  riders, 
urged  by  Kellyan,  followed  fast.  They 
passed  him,  wheeled,  faced  him.  The 
pistols  had  wounded  him  in  many 
places. 

"  Don't  shoot — don't  shoot,  but  tire 
him  out,"  the  hunter  urged. 

"  Tire  him  out?  Look  at  Carlos  and 


Manuel  back  there.  How  many  minutes 
will  it  be  before  the  rest  are  down 
with  them?"  So  the  infuriating  pistols 
popped  till  all  their  shots  were  gone, 
and  Monarch  foamed  with  slobbering 
jaws  of  rage. 

"Keep  on!  keep  cool,"  cried  Kell- 
yan. 

His  lariat  flew  as  the  cattle-killing 
paw  was  lifted  for  an  instant.  The 
lasso  bound  his  wrist.  "Sing!  Sing!" 
went  two,  and  caught  him  by  the  neck. 
A  bull  with  his  great  club-foot  in  a 
noose  is  surely  caught,  but  the  Grizzly 
raised  his  supple,  hand-like,  tapering 
paw  and  gave  one  jerk  that  freed  it. 
Now  the  two  on  his  neck  were  tight; 
he  could  not  slip  them.  The  horses 
at  the  ends  —  they  were  dragging, 
choking  him;  men  were  shouting, hov- 
ering, watching  for  a  new  chance, 
when  Monarch,  firmly  planting  both 


paws,  braced,  bent  those  mighty  shoul- 
ders, and,  spite  of  shortening  breath, 
leaned  back  on  those  two  ropes  as 
Samson  did  on  pillars  of  the  house 
of  Baal,  and  straining  horses  with 
their  riders  were  dragged  forward 
more  and  more,  long  grooves  being 
plowed  behind;  dragging  them,  he 
backed  faster  and  faster  still.  His 
eyes  were  starting,  his  tongue  loll- 
ing out. 

"Keep  on!  hold  tight!"  was  the 
cry,  till  the  ropers  swung  together,  the 
better  to  resist;  and  Monarch,  big  and 
strong  with  frenzied  hate,  seeing  now 
his  turn,  sprang  forward  like  a  shot. 
The  horses  leaped  and  escaped — 
almost ;  the  last  was  one  small  inch  too 
slow.  The  awful  paw  with  jags  of 
steel  just  grazed  his  flank.  How  slight 
it  sounds!  But  what  it  really  means 
is  better  not  writ  down. 


The  riders  had  slipped  their  ropes  in 
fear,  and  the  Monarch,  rumbling,  snort- 
ing, bounding,  trailed  them  to  the  hills, 
there  to  bite  them  off  in  peace,  while 
the  remnant  of  the  gallant  crew  went, 
sadly  muttering,  back. 

Bitter  words  went  round.  Kellyan 
was  cursed. 

"His  fault.  Why  didn't  we  have  the 
guns?" 

"We  were  all  in  it,"  was  the  an- 
swer, and  more  hard  words,  till  Kell- 
yan flushed,  forgot  his  calm,  and  drew 
a  pistol  hitherto  concealed,  and  the 
other  "took  it  back." 


RUMBLING  AND   SNORTING,  HE   MADE   FOR   THE   FRIENDLY  HILLS  ' 


XV 
THE  FOAMING  FLOOD 


XV 


HAT  is  next,  Lan?"  said 
Lou,  as  they  sat  dispir- 
ited by  the  fire  that  night. 
Kellyan  was  silent  for 
a  time,  then  said  slowly 
and  earnestly,  with  a  gleam  in  his 
eye:  "  Lou,  that  rs  the  greatest  Bear 
alive.  When  I  seen  him  set  up  there 
like  a  butte  and  swat  horses  like  they 
was  flies,  I  jest  loved  him.  He  's  the 
greatest  thing  God  has  turned  loose  in 
these  yer  hills.  Before  to-day,  I  sure 
wanted  to  get  him;  now,  Lou,  I  'm 


*  'HV  T»/>7 
-NW  **1)»' 
p>*  '•!  •  >f''s 

*'*)?!' VJ  «/ 


a-going  to  get  him,  an'  get  him  alive, 
if  it  takes  all  my  natural  days.  I  think 
I  kin  do  it  alone,  but  I  know  I  kin  do 
it  with  you,"  and  deep  in  Kellyan's 
eyes  there  glowed  a  little  spark  of 
something  not  yet  rightly  named. 

They  were  camped  in  the  hills, 
being  no  longer  welcome  at  the  ranch ; 
the  ranchers  thought  their  price  too 
high.  Some  even  decided  that  the 
Monarch,  being  a  terror  to  sheep,  was 
not  an  undesirable  neighbor.  The  cattle 
bounty  was  withdrawn,  but  the  news- 
paper bounty  was  not. 

"  I  want  you  to  bring  in  that  Bear," 
was  the  brief  but  pregnant  message 
from  the  rich  newsman  when  he  heard 
of  the  fight  with  the  riders. 

u  How  are  you  going  about  it,  Lan?" 

Every  bridge  has  its  rotten  plank, 
every  fence  its  flimsy  rail,  every  great 
one  his  weakness,  and  Kellyan,  as 


he  pondered,  knew  how  mad  it  was 
to  meet  this  one  of  brawn  with  mere 
brute  force. 

"Steel  traps  are  no  good ;  he  smashes 
them.  Lariats  won't  do,  and  he  knows 
all  about  log  traps.  But  I  have  a 
scheme.  First,  we  must  follow  him  up 
and  learn  his  range.  I  reckon  that  fll 
take  three  months." 

So  the  two  kept  on.  They  took  up 
that  Bear-trail  next  day;  they  found 
the  lariats  chewed  off.  They  followed 
day  after  day.  They  learned  what  they 
could  from  rancher  and  sheep-herder, 
and  much  more  was  told  them  than 
they  could  believe. 

Three  months,  Lan  said,  but  it  took 
six  months  to  carry  out  his  plan ;  mean- 
while Monarch  killed  and  killed. 

In  each  section  of  his  range  they 
made  one  or  two  cage-  or  pen-traps  of 
bolted  logs.  At  the  back  end  of  each 


they  put  a  small  grating  of  heavy  steel 
bars.  The  door  was  carefully  made  and 
fitted  into  grooves.  It  was  of  double 
plank,  with  tar-paper  between  to  make 
it  surely  light-tight.  It  was  sheeted 
with  iron  on  the  inside,  and  when  it 
dropped  it  went  into  an  iron-bound 
groove  in  the  floor. 

They  left  these  traps  open  and  un- 
set till  they  were  grayed  with  age  and 
smelt  no  more  of  man.  Then  the  two 
hunters  prepared  for  the  final  play. 
They  baited  all  without  setting  them 
— baited  them  with  honey,  the  lure 
that  Monarch  never  had  refused — and 
when  at  length  they  found  the  honey 
baits  were  gone,  they  came  where  he 
now  was  taking  toll  and  laid  the  long- 
planned  snare.  Every  trap  was  set, 
and  baited  as  before  with  a  mass  of 
honey — but  honey  now  mixed  with  a 
potent  sleeping  draft. 


XVI 

L/JN<DLOCKE<D 


XVI 

|HAT  night  the  great 
Bear  left  his  lair,  one  of 
his  many  lairs,  and,  cured 
of  all  his  wounds,  rejoic- 
ing in  the  fullness  of  his 
mighty  strength,  he  strode  toward  the 
plains.  His  nose,  ever  alert,  reported 
—  sheep,  a  deer,  a  grouse;  men  — 
more  sheep,  some  cows,  and  some 
calves;  a  bull — a  fighting  bull  —  and 
Monarch  wheeled  in  big,  rude,  Bear- 
ish joy  at  the  coming  battle  brunt; 
but  as  he  hugely  hulked  from  hill  to 


x 


hill  a  different  message  came,  so  soft 
and  low,  so  different  from  the  smell 
of  beefish  brutes,  one  might  well  won- 
der he  could  sense  it,  but  like  a  tiny 
ringing  bell  when  thunder  booms  it 
came,  and  Monarch  wheeled  at  once. 
Oh,  it  cast  a  potent  spell  !  It  stood  for 
something  very  near  to  ecstasy  with 
him,  and  down  the  hill  and  through 
the  pines  he  went,  on  and  on  faster 
yetf  abandoned  to  its  sorcery.  Here 
to  its  home  he  traced  it,  a  long,  low 
cavern.  He  had  seen  such  many  times 
before,  had  been  held  in  them  more 
than  once,  but  had  learned  to  spurn 
them.  For  weeks  he  had  been  robbing 
•\\them  of  their  treasures,  and  its  odor, 
like  a  calling  voice,  was  still  his  guide. 
Into  the  cavern  he  passed  and  it  reeked 
with  the  smell  of  joy.  There  was  the 
luscious  mass,  and  Monarch,  with  all 
caution  lulled  now,  licked  and  licked, 


•-• 
1 


then  seized  to  tear  the  has*  for  more, 
when  down  went  the  door  with  a  low 
"bang!"  The  Monarch  started,  but 
all  was  still  and  there  was  no  smell  of 
danger.  He  had  forced  such  doors  be- 
fore. His  palate  craved  the  honey  still, 
and  he  licked  and  licked,  greedily  at 
first,  then  calmly,  then  slowly,  then 
drowsily — then  at  last  stopped.  His 
eyes  were  closing,  and  he  sank  slowly 
down  on  the  earth  and  slept  a  heavy 
sleep. 

Calm,  but  white-faced,  were  they — 
the  men — when  in  the  dawn  they  came. 
There  were  the  huge  scarred  tracks 
in-leading;  there  was  the  door  down; 
there  dimly  they  could  see  a  mass  of 
fur  that  filled  the  pen,  that  heaved  in 
deepest  sleep. 

Strong  ropes,  strong  chains  and 
bands  of  steel  were  at  hand,  with 
chloroform,  lest  he  should  revive  too 


c 

ift 


soon.  Through  holes  in  the  roof  with 
infinite  toil  they  chained  him,  bound 
him — his  paws  to  his  neck,  his  neck 
and  breast  and  hind  legs  to  a  bolted 
beam.  Then  raising  the  door,  they 
draped  him  out,  not  with  horses  — 
none  would  go  near — but  with  a  wind- 
lass to  a  tree;  and  fearing  the  sleep  of 
death,  they  let  him  now  revive. 

Chained  and  double  chained,  fren- 
zied, foaming,  and  impotent,  what 
words  can  tell  the  state  of  the  fallen 
Monarch?  They  put  him  on  a  sled, 
and  six  horses  with  a  long  chain 
drew  it  by  stages  to  the  plain,  to  the 
railway.  They  fed  him  enough  to  save 
his  life.  A  great  steam-derrick  lifted 
Bear  and  beam  and  chain  on  to  a  flat- 
car,  a  tarpaulin  was  spread  above  his 
helpless  form ;  the  engine  puffed,  pulled 
out;  and  the  Grizzly  King  was  gone 
from  his  ancient  hills. 


rv 

So  they  brought  him  to  the  great 

city,  the  Monarch  born,  in  chains. 
They  put  him  in  a  cage  not  merely 
strong  enough  for  a  lion,  but  thrice 
as  strong,  and  once  a  rope  gave  way 
as  the  huge  one  strained  his  bonds. 
"He  is  loose/'  went  the  cry,  and  an 
army  of  onlookers  and  keepers  fled; 
only  the  small  man  with  the  calm  eye 
and  the  big  man  of  the  hills  were 
stanch,  so  the  Monarch  was  still 
held. 

Free  in  the  cage,  he  swung  round, 
looked  this  way  and  that,  then  heaved 
his  powers  against  the  triple  angling 
steel  and  wrenched  the  cage  so  not 
a  part  of  it  was  square.  In  time  he 
clearly  would  break  out.  They  dragged 
the  prisoner  to  another  that  an  ele- 
phant could  not  break  down,  but  it 
stood  on  the  ground,  and  in  an  hour 
the  great  beast  had  a  cavern  into  the 


earth  and  was  sinking  out  of  sight,  till  a 
stream  of  water  sent  after  him  filled 
the  hole  and  forced  him  again  to  view. 
They  moved  him  to  a  new  cage  made 
for  him  since  he  came — a  hard  rock 
floor,  great  bars  of  nearly  two-inch  steel 
that  reached  up  nine  feet  and  then 
projected  in  for  five.  The  Monarch 
wheeled  once  around,  then,  rearing, 
raised  his  ponderous  bulk,  wrenched 
those  bars,  unbreakable,  and  bent  and 
turned  them  in  their  sockets  with  one 
heave  till  the  five-foot  spears  were 
pointed  out,  and  then  sprang  to  climb. 
Nothing  but  spikes  and  blazing  brands 
in  a  dozen  ruthless  hands  could  hold 
him  back.  The  keepers  watched  him 
night  and  day  till  a  stronger  cage  was 
made,  impregnable  with  a  steel  above 
and  rocks  below. 

The  Untamed  One  passed  swiftly 
around,    tried    every    bar,    examined 


/v 

every  corner,  sought  for  a  crack  in 
the  rocky  floor,  and  found  at  last  the 
place  where  was  a  six-inch  timber 
beam  —  the  only  piece  of  wood  in  its 
frame.  It  was  sheathed  in  iron,  but 
exposed  for  an  inch  its  whole  length. 
One  claw  could  reach  the  wood,  and 
here  he  lay  on  his  side  and  raked  — 
raked  all  day  till  a  great  pile  of  shav- 
ings was  lying  by  it  and  the  beam 
sawn  in  two;  but  the  cross-bolts  re- 
mained, and  when  Monarch  put  his 
vast  shoulder  to  the  place  it  yielded 
not  a  whit.  That  was  his  last  hope; 
now  it  was  gone;  and  the  huge  Bear 
sank  down  in  the  cage  with  his  nose 
in  his  paws  and  sobbed  —  long,  heavy 
sobs,  animal  sounds  indeed,  but  tell- 
ing just  as  truly  as  in  man  of  the 
broken  spirit — the  hope  and  the  life 
gone  out.  The  keepers  came  with  food 
at  the  appointed  time,  but  the  Bear 


moved  not.  They  set  it  down,  but  in 
the  morning  it  was  still  untouched. 
The  Bear  was  lying  as  before,  his 
ponderous  form  in  the  pose  he  had 
first  taken.  The  sobbing  was  re- 
placed by  a  low  moan  at  intervals. 

Two  days  went  by.  The  food,  un- 
touched, was  corrupting  in  the  sun. 
The  third  day,  and  Monarch  still  lay 
on  his  breast,  his  huge  muzzle  under 
hishugerpaw.  His  eyes  were  hidden; 
only  a  slight  heaving  of  his  broad  chest 
was  now  seen. 

"He  is  dying/'  said  one  keeper. 
"  He  can't  live  overnight." 

"Send  for  Kellyan,"  said  an- 
other. 

So  Kellyan  came,  slight  and  thin. 
There  was  the  beast  that  he  had 
chained,  pining,  dying.  He  had  sobbed 
his  life  out  in  his  last  hope's  death, 
a  thrill  of  pity  came  over  the 


hunter,  for  men  of  grit  and  power  love 
grit  and  power.  He  put  his  arm 
through  the  cage  bars  and  stroked 
him,  but  Monarch  made  no  sign.  His 
body  was  cold.  At  length  a  little  moan 
was  sign  of  life,  and  Kellyan  said, 
"  Here,  let  me  go  in  to  him.1' 

"You  are  mad,"  said  the  keepers, 
and  they  would  not  open  the  cage. 
But  Kellyan  persisted  till  they  put  in 
a  cross-grating  in  front  of  the  Bear. 
Then,  with  this  between,  he  ap- 
proached. His  hand  was  on  the  shaggy 
head,  but  Monarch  lay  as  before.  The 
hunter  stroked  his  victim  and  spoke 
to  him.  His  hand  went  to  the  big 
round  ears,  small  above  the  head. 
They  were  rough  to  his  touch.  He 
looked  again,  then  started.  What! 
is  it  true?  Yes,  the  stranger's  tale  was 
true,  for  both  ears  were  pierced  with 
a  round  hole  —  one  torn  large — :and 


Kellyan  knew  that  once  again  he  had 
met  his  little  Jack. 

"  Why,  Jacky,  I  did  n't  know  it  was 
you.  I  never  would  have  done  it  if  I 
had  known  it  was  you.  Jacky,  old 
pard,  don't  you  know  me?" 

But  Jack  stirred  not,  and  Kellyan 
got  up  quickly.  Back  to  the  hotel  he 
flew;  there  he  put  on  his  hunter's 
suit,  smoky  and  smelling  of  pine  gum 
and  grease,  and  returned  with  a  mass 
of  honeycomb  to  reenter  the  cage. 

" Jacky,  Jacky!"  he  cried,  "honey, 
honey!"  and  he  held  the  tempting 
comb  before  him.  But  Monarch  lay 
as  one  dead  now. 

"Jacky,  Jacky!  don't  you  know 
me?"  He  dropped  the  honey  and  laid 
his  hands  on  the  great  muzzle. 

The  voice  was  forgotten.  The  old- 
JIJJLp'  time  invitation,  "Honey,  Jacky — 
\\  honey,"  had  lost  its  power,  but  the 


smell  of  the  honey,  the  coat,  the  hands 
that  he  had  fondled,  had  together  a 
hidden  potency. 

There  is  a  time  when  the  dying 
of  our  race  forget  their  life,  but 
clearly  remember  the  scenes  of  child- 
hood; these  only  are  real  and  return 
with  master  power.  And  why  not  with 
a  Bear?  The  power  of  scent  was  there 
to  call  them  back  again,  and  Jacky, 
the  Grizzly  Monarch,  raised  his  head 
a  little — just  a  little;  the  eyes  were 
nearly  closed,  but  the  big  brown  nose 
was  jerked  up  feebly  two  or  three 
times — the  sign  of  interest  that  Jacky 
used  to  give  in  days  of  old.  Now  it 
was  Kellyan  that  broke  down  even  as 
the  Bear  had  done. 

"  I  did  n't  know  it  was  you,  Jacky, 
or  I  never  would  have  done  it.  Oh, 
Jacky,  forgive  me!"  He  rose  and 
fled  from  the  cage. 


The  keepers  were  there.  They 
scarcely  understood  the  scene,  but 
one  of  them,  acting  on  the  hint,  pushed 
the  honeycomb  nearer  and  cried, 
"  Honey,  Jacky — honey!" 

Filled  by  despair,  he  had  lain  down 
to  die,  but  here  was  a  new-born  hope, 
not  clear,  not  exact  as  words  might 
put  it,  but  his  conqueror  had  shown 
himself  a  friend;  this  seemed  a  new 
hope,  and  the  keeper,  taking  up  the 
old  call,  "  Honey,  Jacky — honey!" 
pushed  the  comb  till  it  touched  his 
muzzle.  The  smell  was  wafted  to  his 
sense,  its  message  reached  his  brain; 
hope  honored,  it  must  wake  response. 
The  great  tongue  licked  the  comb, 
appetite  revived,  and  thus  in  new- 
born Hope  began  the  chapter  of  his 
gloom. 

Skilful  keepers  were  there  with 
plans  to  meet  the  Monarch's  every 


want.  Delicate  foods  were  offered  and 
every  shift  was  tried  to  tempt  him  back 
to  strength  and  prison  life. 

He  ate  and  —  lived. 

And  still  he  lives,  but  pacing — pac- 
ing—  pacing — you  may  see  him, 
scanning  not  the  crowds,  but  some- 
thing beyond  the  crowds,  breaking 
down  at  times  into  petulant  rages,  but 
recovering  anon  his  ponderous  dig- 
nity, looking — waiting — watching — 
held  ever  by  that  Hope,  that  unknown 
Hope,  that  came.  Kellyan  has  been 
to  him  since,  but  Monarch  knows  him 
not.  Over  his  head,  beyond  him,  was 
the  great  Bear's  gaze,  far  away  toward 
Tallac  or  far  away  on  the  sea,  we 
knowing  not  which  or  why,  but  pac- 
ing—  pacing — pacing — held  like  the 
storied  Wandering  One  to  a  life  of 
ceaseless  journey — a  journey  aimless, 
endless,  and  sad. 


The  wound-spots  long  ago  have  left 
his  shaggy  coat,  but  the  earmarks  still 
are  there,  the  ponderous  strength,  the 
elephantine  dignity.  His  eyes  are  dull, 
—  never  were  bright, —  but  they  seem 
not  vacant,  and  most  often  fixed  on  the 
Golden  Gate  where  the  river  seeks 
the  sea. 

The  river,  born  in  high  Sierra's 
flank,  that  lived  and  rolled  and  grew, 
through  mountain  pines,  overleaping 
man-made  barriers,  then  to  reach 
with  growing  power  the  plains  and 
bring  its  mighty  flood  at  last  to  the 
Bay  of  Bays,  a  prisoner  there  to  lie, 
the  prisoner  of  the  Golden  Gate,  seek- 
ing forever  Freedom's  Blue,  seeking 
and  raging — raging  and  seeking — 
back  and  forth,  forever  —  in  vain. 


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